


It's A Good Kind Of Madness

by OrangeJuiceLesbian



Series: Hawaiian Shirts And Bad Excuses [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Animals, Aromantic Sasha James, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Bad Cooking, Bets & Wagers, Cats, Cooking, Crack, Drinking, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Found Family, Ghost Hunters, HOT MARTIN RIGHTS, Happy Ending, Holiday, Humor, M/M, Mentioned Martin Blackwood's Mother, Misunderstandings, Non-binary Georgie, Other, Rated T for swears, Secret Relationship, Secret dating, The Mechanisms Were Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist's College | University Band, and there was only one bed, any character can be read as trans, as a cis woman i dont feel like i have much authority on it so its up to you, i think so, no hurt, no sadness, stealing the institute card
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29299467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeJuiceLesbian/pseuds/OrangeJuiceLesbian
Summary: Three days after Jon and Martin had gotten together, Martin finds the table of bets the others have placed on that moment. Jon and Martin make the decision not to tell the others, with the condition that they would if someone outright asked if they were dating.Which leaves Jon and Martin pretending they are just co-workers, only struggling in a few… unfortunate situations.
Relationships: Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Hawaiian Shirts And Bad Excuses [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2132460
Comments: 231
Kudos: 329
Collections: tma is an office comedy - tma fics (read)





	1. The Bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where it all started.

Martin and Jon hadn’t been dating for very long. 3 days to be precise: there was a whole thing on Friday where Jon apologised to Martin etc., and they’d gone for their first date at a café round the corner. It was all very, very lovely. So, come Monday, Martin would have to face Tim and Sasha.

Martin was currently in the break room making cups of tea, and he knew Jon was in his office because they were both early and _had_ to say hello to each other, but the other two were a few minutes late, and he wasn’t sure if Daisy and Basira were in. The point was, they hadn’t talked about telling the others - so until they did, Martin wasn’t going to let on.

Gathering the four mugs, Martin very carefully stepped out of the break room, and began placing one on the desk of each assistant except his own, when he noticed something on Tim’s desk.

In between some files, was an A4 sheet of paper, covered in bright colours and a table (as in a statistics table, not a full pine table because that would be weird - then again, not weirder than some of the other things that happened, so…). As he pulled it out, Martin could just about make out the title, before Tim came rushing in, and snatched it away, “Hey, Marto! What are you doing?” he laughed nervously.

“Tim, what is that?”

“Nothing for you to worry about. Ooh, thank you for the tea,” Tim picked it up, and sipped at it. Not far behind Tim was Sasha, who looked concerned, until she saw what Tim was holding behind his back.

“Good morning, Martin,” she smiled like this was completely fine, while not-so-stealthily taking the paper from Tim, and putting it in her bag, “Everything go alright on Friday?”

Unfortunately, Tim and Sasha had very purposefully left Jon and Martin alone in the archives - Jon told him this during their date, it was so that he could apologise for his behaviour properly without a crowd - so they knew to ask about it.

“Yeah, it was fine. I think it’s all sorted out now, so,” Martin shrugged at the end. He was terrifyingly good at lying when he wanted to be.

Tim looked over at Sasha, then back at Martin, “So nothing else happened?”

“Like what?” He knew what.

“You two are friends now?” Sasha took over.

“I wouldn't say ‘friends’, but it’s not as bad as it was.” Technically, Martin wasn’t lying at this point.

Oh dear.

* * *

Martin listened for the sound of a tape recorder, before knocking gently, and entering Jon’s office. It had taken a few minutes to get out of the conversation with Tim and Sasha, but he knew what he was about to do, and he was pretty sure Jon would agree with him.

“Martin,” Jon looked up from the file he was reading, still using a stern-ish voice, “I need to talk to you about one of your follow ups. Could you shut the door please?”

He knew what this meant, and it had nothing to do with follow ups, because he received a small smile. Martin set the tea down, closed the door, and sat down in front of Jon. "We can't tell them."

"Sorry, what?"

Martin took a sip of his tea, "It's not that I don't want them to know - I do. But we can't tell them about this… for a different reason."

Jon squinted, understanding there was more to it. This wasn't exactly how he planned this conversation going, the intent being to help two rather touch-starved individuals who had agreed on boundaries during their first date. Yeah, he wanted hugs and kisses, but would never say it out loud. Well, not _like that_.

"Martin, what's wrong?” Jon asked, carefully.

It was time to explain a bit more than he wanted, but Martin began, “Okay, so I think it’s important for you to know that Tim and Sasha have known, for quite some time now, that I have feelings for you. And they would tease me. I’m guessing they were pretty sure it wasn’t as unrequited as I thought it was. I’m also guessing they told Daisy and Basira. And Melanie. Who probably told Georgie-”

“Hey, hey it’s alright. Martin,” Jon took his… was it too early to say ‘boyfriend’? His Martin. His Martin’s hand. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s fine.”

The other man’s slight laughter at this was unnerving, but the fact he was biting his lip to stop made it a little easier.

“Jon, they have all placed bets to see when we would get together.”

It was Jon’s turn to laugh, which Martin felt completely blessed by, having very rarely heard it. “Wait, you’re not joking. Oh, good lord. Do they know that you know?” he asked.

“I don’t think so. I went to put Tim’s tea on his desk, and I noticed something in a stack of files - Jon there’s a whole spreadsheet/table thing, with glitter and colours,” Martin rambled, his smile not faltering for a second.

“They made a table? They’ve never even been organised enough to do that in their actual work.”

This was ridiculous, right? People didn’t really do that. But Martin wouldn’t lie to him (the middle-name fiasco was yet to come up, so ignorance is bliss on that front). This was Martin, Jon argued with himself. He wouldn’t. And especially not with the current relationship between the two of them.

“Oh my god,” Jon said, before thinking for a moment, “Martin… who won?”

“ _Jon._ ”

“I was just wondering,” both of them were trying to take that part seriously, but it wasn’t working very well. “So, what are we going to do, if we don’t tell them?”

They both knew the answer, really. “We aren’t going to tell them,” Martin started, “Unless they very specifically ask whether or not we’re… Jon, what are we?"

"I didn't want to presume either. I don't mind the terminology," he gave a heart-warming smile that Martin desperately wanted to melt into. It didn't matter that it had been three days, they were too affectionately starved.

"I was going to go with 'dating', but I don't mind if you wanted to take it a little further," Martin blushed at his own words, daring to look up in case he'd gone too far. A hand on his own from across the table gave him enough confidence to look up, "Jon... Jon would you like to be my boyfriend?"

“Definitely. Yes, yes please. Erm, but that aside, it sounds like a good plan,” Jon nodded, “We’ll have to be sneaky.”

Martin simply could not hold back a snort. “Yes, you try that.”

He scoffed with mock offence, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not the one that was kidnapped three times in as many weeks.”

“Yes, dear.” (fond)


	2. If It Weren't For Those Meddling Kids...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Georgie attempts to get information out of Jon, Basira sits on a fridge, and Jon overhears something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am currently working on finding a way to put the betting spreadsheet/table in - either I handmake one, or I do it within Google Docs...

The thing that Jon found odd was that Georgie was _ringing_ him. They never rang. Georgie had had emergencies before, and they had never, ever called. The Admiral went missing once, and they still texted.

“...Hi?” Jon answered, knowing he sounded confused. Maybe they'd pocket dialled.

_“Hi Jon! How are you?”_

“...I am very well. Georgie, don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you ringing me?”

 _“No reason!”_ they answered far too quickly. _“I just… I just thought that we haven’t talked for quite some time, and that we should catch up. So, what’s new in your life?”_

Ah. Jon knew what was happening. Actually, as he thought back, Jon realised a lot of his conversations with Georgie consisted of them trying to find out ‘what was new’ in his life. This made sense, as Martin remarked on them being part of the betting group too - it had been a week since they’d discovered the colourful spreadsheet. The betrayal had not gone unnoticed.

“Absolutely nothing is new in my life. Why would it be?” he questioned, knowingly, and aware that there was no longer the sound of befuddlement in his voice.

 _“Oh. Yep, er. Just thought I’d ask. I was just being polite, Jonathan.”_ Because, god forbid, Georgie was the one to come across as rude. _“Soooo, how’s work? How’s Martin?”_ did they even know how suspicious they sounded?

“Work’s fine, despite a few hiccups. And I’m sure Martin’s fine as well, I haven’t spoken to him today,” that was a blatant lie. Jon had spent the night at Martin’s flat, and they’d carefully come in at different times, so it wasn’t suspicious. Both later discovered that this didn't matter because the others still turned up later anyway.

" _Huh,_ " they paused for a bit too long, " _Well would you look at the time, I must get going. Melanie's taking me out for dinner. Bye!_ "

Georgie hung up before Jon could reply. In an ideal world, he would have just gotten up, found Martin, and told him about the conversation - but the assistants we're all on their lunch break, so he couldn't.

**Martin**

**Jon** (12:04): Georgie just rang me.

 **Martin** (12:04): shit are they ok?

 **Jon** (12:05): Yes, they’re fine.

 **Jon** (12:05): They rang to ask how I was, and what was new in my life. They specifically brought up your name. I deem this suspicious.

 **Martin** (12:06): i would too if they didnt have thirty quid riding on us

 **Jon** (12:06): £30?!

 **Jon** (12:06): I thought you didn't see the sheet properly!

 **Martin** (12:07): i was going to tell you later but i found it this morning

 **Martin** (12:08): theyve put some serious money on us

 **Martin** (12:08): ive made tea if you want some

 **Jon** (12:08): All right x

* * *

As Jon walked towards the break room, past the other assistants, he failed to notice that only four of them (Tim, Sasha, Melanie, and Daisy) were at their desks. Well, Daisy was sitting at Tim’s desk, as he was showing her a ‘meme’.

There were more important things to attend to. Like Martin. And tea.

“Ah, there you are,” Martin smiled, and moved Jon’s pink lettered ‘Totally Straight’ labelled mug towards him. As Jon picked the cup up, their hands touched for a moment, and both of them allowed themselves to have this, if they couldn’t do anything at work yet. “How’re you feeling?”

“Tired, but not as much as usual. I had a good night’s sleep,” he beamed up at Martin, remembering fondly how nice it had been to be together.

“And why would that be?” Martin’s smug tone was something Jon adored more each day.

Unfortunately, fate was not smiling on Jon and Martin, because as Jon took a step closer to the man he loved…

“Well, extra warmth, and having y- oh my god! Basira how long have you been there?”

Okay, so maybe fate was ever so slightly smiling on them, because if Jon hadn’t noticed Basira over Martin’s shoulder (who had also not noticed her presence), he may have breached, what Georgie had so well informed him, PDA. He needed to be more careful. But as Jon considered it, there was something else bothering him.

“Oh, hello. Probably an hour now,” Basira replied, briefly looking up from her book (‘Snap Revision For GSCE Macbeth’ - had she brought this in herself?). Perhaps she hadn’t seen and/or heard what they were doing.

Martin had to say something. Jon could tell it was bothering him.

“You are on top of a fridge.”

“I am comfortable.”

* * *

Basira had most definitely seen and heard them, Jon discovered less than an hour later, shortly after Martin had left to retrieve a book from the library.

Despite being sat at his desk, about to record a statement, Jon could hear muffled voices along with his own name. Avoiding the creaking floorboards, he stepped over to his office door, and picked up a random glass - that he did not remember acquiring - to press against the door and listen in. It might be about the bet.

“- not just you pulling our legs?” it sounded like Sasha.

“I promise you I’m not. They were both acting really weirdly around each other.” Ah, Basira was also telling the others. Wonderful.

“I think we’d know,” Tim spoke up, “If Jon and Martin had finally gotten together. I don’t think they’d be able to stay apart for too long, and I think they’d be really fucking sappy about it.”

Jon hated how right Tim was, even if he personally would never use the word ‘sappy’. But Jon did miss Martin’s presence and being able to lean against him. Wait, no, he needed to pay attention.

What Jon didn’t hear was the sound of footsteps getting gradually closer to his door. At least, not until it was almost too late. No, instead what happened was Melanie opened the door and came face to face with a wide-eyed Jon, and a glass shattering against the back wall.

After a moment of an intense glare, Jon spoke first, “Is there something I can help you with, Melanie?”

Without breaking eye contact, she brought up the paper Jon hadn’t seen in her hands, “I need you to sign this. You good in there?”

“Yes. I thought I saw a spider.”

The Archivist didn’t have to look behind Melanie (if he could see over her shoulder) to tell that the others were watching intently. He couldn’t let Martin down now. He wasn’t going to let them win just yet.

“Right,” Melanie drew out, but Jon could see the cogs turning in her head as her facial expression changed slightly. “Do you want me to go and get Martin?”

“Err, no? I think he’s busy, and I’m sure he has better things to be doing than chasing a spider. Anyway, I have work to do as well. As do you lot. Bye.”

He shut the door in her face and fell against it before shifting over to his desk - lest the door be opened again, and Jon fall backwards. The determination to retain his dignity was impressive, if not sad.

At the sound of his phone’s notification bleeping, Jon thought about how he was going to explain this to Martin without getting laughed at. That wasn’t going to happen, was it? Oh god, he’d need to clean that glass up too. He might as well have booked into A&E there and then.

But for now, it was Georgie texting again.

**Georgie**

**Georgie** (13:32): u shld talk 2 him

 **Jon** (13:34): Not if you're texting like that, I won't. Who are you on about?

 **Georgie** (13:34): Martin. Your co-worker. He seems nice.

 **Jon** (13:35): Yes, and?

 **Georgie** (13:35): And I think you've been on your own for far too long. I've got Melanie, you need someone too!

 **Jon** (13:37): I really don't. Also, he's just one of my assistants. This is not going anywhere.

 **Jon** (13:37): Why are you focusing on Martin? There are other people.

 **Georgie** (13:40): Well let's see. I'm married to Melanie, and you two barely get along. Daisy and Basira are most likely their own thing, but both can be equally terrifying - you'd stay friends with them. Sasha is aromantic. Tim may be bisexual, but he's way too flirty with everyone and extroverted. But Martin? He's sweet and caring and he makes you tea everyday - and gay. See? Perfect.

 **Jon** (13:41): What about those who don't work in the Archives?

 **Georgie** (13:41): Who do you know who doesn't work in the Archives?

 **Georgie** (13:41): And don't say me.

 **Jon** (13:43): The Admiral?

 **Georgie** (13:43): Go and talk to him. He might like you back

 **Jon** (13:44): Who said I liked him?

 **Jon** (13:44): Because I don't.

 **Georgie** (13:45): I can't tell if you're lying to yourself or just being difficult. Either way: you'd make a great couple.

 **Jon** (13:45): Oh, would you look at the time, I have work to do. Bye Georgie.

 **Georgie** (13:46): ttyl x

Trust Georgie to be subtle.

Wait, how did _they_ know Martin was gay?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Wednesday: Tim's impromtu visit to Martin's flat causes everyone's favourite bi-con to start conspiracy theories.


	3. A Quiet Night In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon's staying over at Martin's for the weekend. That should be easy enough, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished making a physical version of the betting table on Monday, which will be uploaded along with the final chapter.

“I can’t believe you threw a glass against a wall, and tried to pick it up yourself,” Martin said, looking at the almost healed scars on Jon’s hands.

It was date night, and Jon was staying over at Martin’s again, like he was most of the time nowadays. Not only was it date night, it was Friday night, which meant that Jon was staying until Sunday. Or, at the very least, that was the plan - specifically Martin’s plan, who was trying to stop his workaholic boyfriend from being his _workaholic_ boyfriend. He will win this battle.

“I can’t believe they’ve got a bet on us,” Jon grumbled into the wine glass in his other hand.

Martin nodded, and made an agreeing noise, “Yeah, but at least we know the details of it. Oh! I meant to show you, actually,” he picked his phone up from the coffee table, “I managed to find and take a photo of it.”

“Oh my god, show me,” Jon’s eyes went wide, and he put his wine glass down, making grabby gestures towards Martin’s phone. On the screen was a sheet of A4 paper, like Martin had described previously, with the title ‘Bets regarding the getting together of Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist at the Magnus Institute, London, and Martin K. Blackwood’ and a table on the monetary bets for ‘Who Asks Who Out’ and ‘Guesses On How’, along with the names of Tim, Sasha James, Basira, Daisy, Melanie King-Barker, and Georgie Barker-King. “Well, I guess we know who won now. Some of these should be questioned though.”

“Yes. I’m very worried about Sasha’s plan though. Annabelle Cane can fuck right off,” Martin took his phone back. “Anyway, I just want to enjoy this weekend without any interruptions,” he lent in with the intent of a kiss before the door went.

_Knock, knock, knock_

Jon gave a partially amused look as Martin’s head dropped in exasperation, “Spoken too soon. Must be food.”

“Oh, I guess I’m getting it then, am I?” Martin stood up, giving Jon a playful push first, who also stood up, heading to the kitchenette for plates and cutlery.

And then Martin unlocked the door.

“Martin!”

“Tim?”

 _Shit!_ Jon ducked down behind the counter. _What the hell was Tim doing here?!_ With very few seconds to think it through, Jon, still crouching, ran/made his way to Martin’s bedroom, just on the off chance that Tim could see him.

Martin stood, trying so very desperately not to panic at the situation. Surely, they could have lasted a few more weeks before being discovered, right? “Er, Tim what are you doing at my flat. On a Friday. I thought you and Sasha were going out?”

“We are,” Tim lent on the doorframe, “We’re meeting in about an hour. So, last week I let you borrow some purple nail polish…”

“Oh, yes. I’ll get it for you,” Martin said, quickly. When he turned to go and find the bottle, he had expected Tim to stay at the front door, and not enter his flat like Tim actually did. Bollocks.

Unfortunately, the nail polish - which Martin was making a mental note to buy some of, because it was rather pretty - was in his bedroom, where Martin could only guess that Jon had gone to hide in, as he couldn’t see his boyfriend anywhere else in the flat, but Jon didn’t realise Martin was going into the room, earning a very quiet yelp.

While neither of them noticed, Tim most definitely did, and turned his head in concern to the direction of Martin. “Everything alright?”

“Yes!” he answered far too quickly for it to be considered not suspicious. Martin appeared at his bedroom door, a pained smile on his face, and an arm outstretched with the nail polish, “Found it. Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

“Oh, do you have company?”

The look that Martin gave Tim could be interpreted in a plethora of ways. It could have been the panic that Tim saw Jon, and they’d outed themselves as a couple, therefore ruining the charade. Or Martin was there by himself, and Tim's eyes were playing tricks on him. Or… no. Tim wasn’t going to bother Martin with that, he had enough on his plate. He would, however, bother Sasha with that in due course.

“No, it’s just me. Why?” At least Martin could try and find out what Tim had seen (which was movement that was definitely not Martin in Martin's bedroom).

“Because I thought I saw- you know what, it’s fine. I’d better get going,” he moved towards the open door, Hawaiian shirt swishing slightly with the movement. “You can join us for drinks, you know. Sorry, I should have offered before.” Tim stopped in the hallway outside Martin’s flat.

“That’s alright, I ordered takeaway-”

“‘Scuse me?” Speak of the devil. “Number 9? For a J-” the (not-cockney) delivery man read out, nearly saying Jon’s name, who had ordered it in the first place. Damn his good manners and paying for dinner!

“Yes! Yes, that’s me, thank you,” Martin tried his absolute hardest to be polite, but if the delivery man said the name on the order, Tim would be alerted to something weird going on, and he was never going to hear the end of it. The man left fair sharpish after handing the takeaway over, and Tim eyed the food, choosing not to comment on the amount of it. Perhaps it was meant to last the weekend too?

Most people would believe that Martin was out of trouble. And he would have been. If Tim hadn’t looked over his shoulder to the coffee table. “Martin, how come you have two wine glasses out?”

_Shit, shit, fucking fuck! Quick, think of something! Anything!_

“Ah, yes, well, you see,” Martin stuttered out. _Got it!_ “It would have been my mum’s birthday, so… I thought I’d just…” he gestured to the glasses and shrugged. _Well done._

“Oh, sorry! I guess I’ll leave you to your dinner then,” Tim said, “But if you feel like joining us later, do let me know. You haven’t been out with us for a while. Oh, and er, you can always ring. You know that, right?”

The pitiful atmosphere didn’t mean to hurt Martin the way it did, but it was very almost comforting as well. “Yeah, thanks Tim,” Martin’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. His mum had passed a month previously. Martin had told the others, Jon included, that he didn't need a hand to hold at the funeral. Jon hadn't listened; Martin was happy he hadn't.

“Good. See you later!” and Tim walked away, but not before firing finger guns with the ‘pew pew’ sound effects.

The door was closed within seconds and bolted with very little hesitation. Trust Tim to interrupt date night. Martin shouldn't have been surprised, not really. But it was sweet of him - Tim knew Martin wasn't the most mentally stable of people, and while Martin couldn't figure out how he'd found out, Tim was well aware of the situation with Martin's mother before she passed. But that didn't matter now. Martin had Jon now. Speaking of...

“Jon? He’s gone now, you can come back out.”

A creaking noise from the left told Martin that Jon was slowly exiting the bedroom. “I’m not sure if he saw me- oh, Martin, are you alright, dear?”

“Hm? Yeah, I think he’s worried about me,” Martin explained, with a slightly phased out expression, while he put food on plates.

“That just means he cares,” Jon stood on his tiptoes to peck Martin on the cheek, “I do too, I’m always here.”

“Thank you.”

  
  


**Sasha**

**Tim** (19:07): i think martins flat is haunted

 **Sasha** (19:09): OK I have to hear this, but tell me at the bar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genuine thoughts when trying to decide what Tim lent Martin: "What do himbos own?"
> 
> Next Sunday: Martin tries to make the others think he's over Jon  
> Edit: After some of the comments, I'm doing an extra chapter on Tim trying to find out if Martin's flat is haunted, which will be next up :)
> 
> Thanks for reading :) and thank you for all the lovely comments


	4. The 'Most Haunted' Flat In London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After visiting Martin's flat last week, Tim has an idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in a really good mood - have the next chapter early, and still get one on Sunday.
> 
> Todays was going to be Martin trying to convince the others he's over Jon, but I thought this might be a bit of fun as an extra chapter...

“Okay, and marker,” _clap_.

One Timothy Stoker was walking slowly along a badly lit hallway, seemingly towards something unseen. For a Saturday, he was dressed rather smartly: dark slacks, proper shoes (that weren’t converse), a black t-shirt, and long black coat that tapped against his calves. The exception to ‘he was dressed rather smartly’ was that Tim was still wearing a lime green Hawaiian shirt, so everyone knew he hadn’t been replaced.

“Hello, and welcome to Perhaps It’s Haunted. This week, I’ve brought my team to somewhere a little bit different. We’re used to investigating famous houses, attractions, museums, and ancient castles, so to shake things up a bit, tonight we will be looking into a London flat that’s had reports of dark ghostly figures, along with disembodied voices and sudden temperature changes. We have 24 hours to investigate the hauntings… at Magnolia Point.”

“Marker!”

Martin had made a very big, awful, dreadful mistake: he’d gone away for the weekend and left Tim with the keys to his flat.

To be fair to Martin, he didn’t know that Tim thought his flat was haunted; he just wanted to make sure that if anything went wrong, someone could access his home in an emergency. Additionally, this meant that Martin had no idea what they were doing, and hopefully never would. Yes, Timothy Stoker worked at The Magnus Institute who specialised in paranormal investigations. No, that was not going to stop him from doing his own paranormal investigations in his own time.

“Well, at least you left out the flat number, even if you said the block’s name,” Sasha murmured, going through the recording she’d just taken on her phone. “Okay, we’re good.”

With Tim, was Sasha, Melanie, and Georgie – each had their own reasons for getting involved. Sasha had given up her weekend for two reasons: one, she needed to ensure Tim did not break anything, and two, this was a lifelong dream. Melanie and Georgie, however, had joined because A) they were free, B) each of them had their own supernatural-based show, and C) if it were Tim doing it, this would be quite entertaining.

Daisy and Basira had been invited, but at this they shared a glance, and Basira just said they had better things to do than snoop are their co-workers flat. And Jon… Jon said he was busy that weekend, but they were pretty sure he would shut the whole operation down if he found out, so it was probably for the best.

“Did anyone bring an Ouija board?” Tim questioned the group, who all shook their heads, “Ah well. Could’ve been fun. Never mind – I’ve brought something else.” Sasha and Georgie watched (Melanie listened to) Tim empty the contents of his satchel onto the coffee table, and search through the pile of ‘stuff’ for a metal box.

“Oh dear,” Sasha mourned Tim’s intellect.

“Would anyone like to tell me what Tim has done now?” Melanie grumbled, specifically in the direction of Georgie, who was sat next to Melanie, smoothing out their purple shirt.

“He’s got a spirit box!” Tim exclaimed.

“He?”

“That’s the pronoun I’ve chosen,” he explained, setting it up. “And at least I’ve brought some equipment, what did you lot bring? Your cat?”

Melanie and Georgie had brought The Admiral along with them, the main excuse being that they couldn’t leave him alone for so long, but in addition to this, Georgie argued, “Hey! Animals have been known to sense ghostly presences. He might be really good at this.”

Melanie made a mental note to bring him onto Ghost Hunt UK, if they ever revived the show. Might be a bit difficult for her to actually _see_ the evidence though…

“Yes, that is valid. Fair enough. Sasha, I want to do a bit in here now, so I can introduce everyone. Please?”

The phone was yet to leave her hand, so Sasha smirked a “Go for it, and… action.”

“Marker!” _clap_. Melanie was very proud of her ‘markers’ and would not be taking any criticism.

Tim started in the doorway to the flat, gradually walking further in as he spoke: “Now that we’re here, and all set up, I want to introduce you to my wonderful team of experts, who are going to be helping me diagnose the situation. Here we have What The Ghost’s Georgie Barker-King, Ghost Hunt UK’s, Melanie King-Barker, The Magnus Institute’s Sasha James, and Georgie and Melanie’s cat, The Admiral.” Sasha moved the camera to each person as they were introduced, who gave a small wave (including the cat, even if he was being puppet-ed), and Tim took the phone to show Sasha at her introduction.

“The particular flat we’re exploring belongs to a friend and co-worker of ours, Martin K. Blackwood. Now, he’s left for the weekend, and given us the keys to the place – and I, especially, want to check up on some things, as I, myself, have experienced paranormal happenings here. A few weeks ago, I came round and saw some pretty spooky things: movement in the bedroom that was not from Martin, when he opened the door, and what sounded like a quiet yelp from the same direction. At the time, he was alone here, which makes this all the more worrying – so let’s see what we find tonight.”

“Marker!”

“Great. I’m going to make a cup of tea, if anyone would like one,” Sasha proposed, Georgie being the only other person wanting a drink, “And we need to decide what we’re going to do first.”

“Ooh, we could interview the neighbours!” Tim suggested, beaming at this thought.

“No Tim,” Sasha stood between him and the front door on her way over to the kitchenette, “We can’t do that for the very simple reason that Martin does not know about this and will find out very quickly.”

The silence of thinking brains continued for a few more minutes. Surely there must have been something else they could do to help with the investigation…

“Huh.”

“What?” Georgie asked their wife, who was untangling The Admiral’s claws from her orange jumper – they’d both have to make sure no cat hair remained, thinking about it.

“Well,” Melanie began, in all seriousness, “What if we renamed The Admiral ‘Marbles’, just for a few minutes?” Silence indicated that Georgie was waiting for an explanation, and Melanie finished her thoughts quietly, “Because we could shove him along the floor, and say that marbles were thrown at us…”

Georgie seethed. That was both the worst and best idea they’d ever heard. “I can’t believe- you know what? Sasha? I’ve got an idea…”

“It was _my_ idea, how dare you!”

* * *

They had started this whole thing at 7PM on a Friday. It was now 6AM.

Nothing had happened.

Not a creak. Nothing. Nada.

Not even the spirit box had given them anything.

“Fuck this, let’s just go home.” Sasha had had enough, and just wanted to go home and sleep for 24 hours if she could. She had already begun pulling her white jumper over her blue shirt and start packing up when someone interrupted.

“But I swear there was something in there!” Tim complained, pointing at Martin’s bedroom door. The three ladies had all put their collective foot down on that one: Tim was not allowed in there, because it was too personal, especially if they found anything that would embarrass Martin.

“You know what? Fine,” Georgie huffed, “Here is what we will do: we shall open that door. What we shall not do, Tim, is step into the room. Sasha can film a bit of it, and then we are all going home, alright?”

The three of them (Melanie stayed with The Admiral on the settee, trying not to doze off) walked over to the doorway, Sasha took her phone out and began filming.

It was Georgie who opened the door as wide as it would go.

“Well?” Melanie called from the main room.

“It’s a bedroom,” Sasha commentated, seemingly unimpressed. “I don’t know what you want me to say… hey, does that jumper look familiar to you?” She turned to Tim, pointing at a pale purple, woollen jumper that was half-flung on the bed.

“Other than the fact it’s Martin’s, no. Actually, wait. Wasn’t Jon wearing the other day?”

Yes, yes Jon had been wearing that jumper the other day. And since Martin wasn’t expecting Tim to enter his flat, Martin hadn’t bothered to tidy up any incriminating evidence. Thank goodness no one had noticed the extra toothbrush in the bathroom.

Georgie made a ‘hmm’ noise, “Maybe Martin lent it to him. Jon’s always cold, after all. I swear, those two just need a good shove together,” they laughed.

“Yes, they do,” Melanie agreed, “And Tim? When I win, I want actual money this time, not Asda vouchers, thank you.”

Tim was about to retort with something he’d believe was witty, but they all fell silent.

There was a noise.

It was coming from Melanie’s sort-of direction, but it wasn’t her. The three of them turned to see the television, in the corner, playing static.

“Um, guys. Tell me that’s you,” Melanie breathed.

The remote control was still on the coffee table. And then it changed channels, repeatedly.

“FUCK!”

The collective shout was accompanied by Tim snatching up The Admiral, Georgie taking Melanie’s hand, and Sasha attempting to continue filming what was happening, while they all scrambled for the front door, slamming it behind them.

“Sasha, did we- did we catch a ghost on tape?”

(No. No they didn’t. What they caught on tape, was the neighbours who had accidentally tapped into Martin’s television set, _again_. God knows why they were doing so at 6AM on a Saturday, though.)

* * *

Supplemental:

_(Some weeks after Jon and Martin find out about this)_

“Jon, are you sure this is a good idea?” Martin questioned, barely keeping the amusement out of his voice, holding his phone, ready to film.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes. Now, come on, st-start recording!”

The Head Archivist of The Magnus Institute, London, stood in the middle of Martin’s flat, holding a half-full/empty wine glass in one hand, and an almost empty bottle of red wine in the other.

“Have you- great. Right!” Jon practically shouted into the camera pointed at him. “A few mon-nths ago, Tim ‘nd some others made a docu- a docum- a thing. ‘Cos they thought my boyfr’nd’s flat was haunted. Mahtin. Mahtin, wha’s it called?”

“Perhaps It’s Haunted,” Martin just about got out in a squeak. He was so thankful it was being filmed, or he would never be able to convince anyone else it had happened. That included Jon.

“Tha’s the one!” he took a glug of the remaining wine, “In ret- hang on. Ret. A. Li. A. Shun. Yep, that. In _that_ , I’mm making my own thing. Is called ‘Fucking Prove It!’”

There were now tears on Martin’s behalf, from the sheer ridiculousness of this, and because Jon was deadly serious about the whole thing.

“Mahtin, shush. You’re m-making me look like ‘n idiot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so Sunday is definitely going to be Martin and his not-crush convincing ways.  
> Also, I'm going to have to fuck with the timeline a bit. Because there may be a cat involved. And Jon's naming system...
> 
> Thank you for the wonderful comments and reading :)


	5. Three Makes A Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin and Jon bring a new family member into the mix, and Martin tries to convince the others that he doesn't have a crush on his boss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have fucked with the timeline a bit. Because I thought it would be funny to do this, and then thought about how they hadn't been together that long. Either way, here's some very, very fluffy content.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me.”

It was a warm, Thursday afternoon in May (which is the only indication anyone is going to get for timelines, and it’s almost as though the writer panicked over a description), where both Jon and Martin were sat in Jon’s office, drinking tea - under the continued guise of ‘dealing with follow ups’. What made today different was that Martin had just dropped a bombshell on Jon, especially nearly four months into a relationship…

“Alright, well… I feel like there’s more to this than you’re letting on,” Jon peered over his cup of tea.

“Okay, what I’m asking is, because I know you aren’t doing anything this weekend, do you want to come with me on Saturday to _help_?" Martin chose to emphasise the last word 'help', but he wasn't sure who it would benefit most. Jon would likely find something he wanted, and Martin would melt. "Just to be clear, I know it seems a bit early in us being together, but it's for me, and I have enough faith in us for this to work."

Jon's leg was bouncing with excitement, so he didn't express it to Martin, who may tease him for it, "Er, yes? I think I could do that."

"Great," Martin stood up, lent over to peck Jon on the lips, "I'd better get going. Pick you up at 12 on Saturday?"

Jon nodded. Now, he needed to record some statements, and his boyfriend probably had stuff to do too. He wasn't sure, it didn't matter.

Martin Blackwood was going to get a cat.

* * *

As Jon got into Martin's car, the other passed over a thermos. "Tea?"

"Oh. Thank you," Jon laughed, "Excited?"

"Very. Right, let's get going," Martin replied, starting the engine back up, and driving in the direction of the nearest shelter.

He'd been thinking about getting a pet for some time now, since even before his mother passed, and definitely before him and Jon got together, Martin wanted a companion. It couldn't be a dog, because he couldn't leave it one its own for too long, and Martin had wanted a tarantula named George, but Jon was absolutely terrified of spiders - this had been the reasoning for over a year, since Martin knew that there would be no chance of getting Jon over for anything. But a cat? That was possible.

They pulled up outside the shelter: it wasn't massive and seemed friendly enough. Martin just hoped Jon didn't fall for the first one he saw - in addition to this, Jon had managed to find himself in a flat that didn't allow pets, which Martin found quite funny, considering how much his partner loved cats.

"Oh, and Jon?"

Jon whipped round before he could open the door, "Yes?"

"One cat. One."

It didn't take long.

There was a young woman showing them around, Martin didn't catch her name, he was too busy watching Jon try not to lose his dignity around so many beautiful cats. The remaining dignity left his body, when 27 seconds later Martin felt bad and nudged Jon, “Go on.”

He barely heard the “Thank you,” as Jon all but ran at the cats, but it was there.

“Aw, you two are so sweet.” The statement brought Martin out of his thoughts, forgetting that it wasn’t just him and Jon there. She looked to be in her early-twenties, with long orange hair, “Oh, sorry. I just assumed-“

“No! I mean, yes, we are. Well, I’m the one getting a cat, but I knew this would happen,” Martin watched in adoration as Jon greeted each cat individually, until he stopped at one that Martin couldn’t see very clearly.

“Okay, well I’ll leave you to it for a bit. If you find one you like, just ring the bell at reception.”

Martin barely noticed her leaving, he was too focused on whatever his partner was doing.

“Jon?”

The man in question was sat cross-legged on the floor, his back to Martin (not on purpose), his attention taken by _something_. As Martin walked over, and around, he saw it. In Jon’s hands was a tiny, little kitten, with two large blue eyes, and Martin was pretty sure made 90% of white fluff.

“Martin, look,” Jon whispered, both him and the kitty staring lovingly at each other. The taller man knew, ‘knew’ in every single sense of the word, that this would be their cat. He knew that once Jon had found something, he wouldn’t let go. That’s how Martin had already lost several of his jumpers and one (1) really good biro that he was still a bit miffed about. “She’s beautiful.”

Martin took a moment to reply, mainly because he very discreetly took a photo, and then shoved his phone away, “Yeah. Come on then.”

“What?” Jon asked, tilting his head.

“You found a cat,” Martin snorted.

“Sorry, do you want to look at the other cats? It will be your cat, after all.” There was a somewhat heartbroken tone to this, but Jon was really trying to be good.

A failed stifled laugh was enough of a reply for Jon to stand up, cradling the now confused cat in his (Martin’s) jumper’s arms, “Martin, why are you… what?”

“I would not have brought you if I didn’t know this would happen. You have found our cat,” Martin explained, stroking the kitten’s tiny face.

“ _Our cat_?”

Both Martin and Jon stared at each other as the words echoed. It wasn’t a slip up, it was the entire reason the two of them were choosing a cat together, even if it would live with Martin (who simply couldn’t wait for enough time to pass that it was acceptable for them to move in together. But then again since when were they a normal couple?).

The loving moment was rather rudely interrupted from the girl who’d shown them in, “Oh, have you found one?”

“Yes, yes we have,” Martin couldn’t have smiled harder if he tried.

(“Last one of her litter, that one. The runt, I believe.”

“What?”

“No, Jon. That’s not… no.”)

* * *

It was the Monday after Martin and Jon had picked up their new kitten. In the time between taking her from the shelter and Monday morning, Jon had stayed the weekend again (it was pretty much taken as a given), the kitten had been named (unsurprisingly from the list of name Jon had tried to keep secret), many cat-products had been bought, and neither Jon nor Martin had the heart to leave her alone in the flat. Not yet.

Which was why the two men were in Jon’s office, cooing over the kitten sat on several statements. Martin _had_ to show her off to the others, and Jon had agreed to be very careful in his actions, but it was still a gamble.

The sound of several voices in the main room indicated that Tim, Sasha, Melanie, Daisy, and Basira were finally all in, and that Martin could introduce the new ~~Blackwood-Sims family~~ staff member to his friends. He’d planned this next part very carefully, and it should be stated that no felines were injured or distressed (just mildly bewildered).

“Oh, morning,” Martin walked out of Jon’s office, and received a few replies. “Would anyone like to see what I got this weekend?”

In fairness, it was 8:45 on a Monday morning, but it would have still been nice for at least one other person to appear interested, and Martin was pretty sure Tim was just being kind. Martin Blackwood reached into his jumper’s pocket (one that hadn’t been nicked by a thief) and pulled out a ball of white fluff with eyes.

“Oh my god!” Tim squeaked, rushing over. Now that, that made the others pay attention and follow suit. Martin gently placed his kitten on his desk and allowed her to bask in all of her glory. It was almost as though cats hadn’t forgotten the Ancient Egyptians worshipped them like gods and knew this practice must be continued.

“Martin, she is gorgeous,” Melanie scritched at the creature’s head, and got her phone out, “I have to show Georgie.”

“Aww, what’s her name?” Sasha asked.

_Oh no._

This wasn’t a difficult question. The kitten had been named, she had a name, and Martin just had to tell the others what that name was. But it just wasn’t that fucking simple, was it? No, because Jon had named her. And Jon had a very specific naming system, and they were all going to know.

“Martin?”

“Martin, what’s her name?”

And now they’d all noticed he was panicking. This day was just getting better and better. Better just get it over with now.

“Her name is The Captain.”

Yep. You could cut through that silence with a knife.

“What’s happening? It’s quiet and that’s never good,” Jon approached the room from his office, “Oh, I see you’ve met Martin’s kitten.” He moved closer to the ball of fluff, who instantly recognised him and began mewing. Should they be worried that The Captain very clearly knew him?

“How come you found out before us?” Basira interrogated in her police-voice.

They really should have gone through this sort of things beforehand. Ah well.

“Oh, er, Martin brought her in to ask if she was alright to be in the Archives, and I don’t see why not,” Jon hadn’t looked up from The Captain, who was nearly in his arms again, but he had to push her back. At the rejection, The Captain turned to Martin and mewed similarly in order to receive pets and loves.

“Considering I thought you’d have tried to kidnap The Admiral by now, I am not surprised The Captain’s going to be sticking around,” Melanie snickered.

“Yes, well,” Jon stumbled and blushed, “I’d better be getting back to work. As should you lot. And I shall see you later.” With that he gave The Captain one last scritch, and left the assistants be.

The Head Archivist’s door had been shut for several seconds before anyone said anything. Anyone being Martin, who rather obviously owed everyone an explanation.

“It’s a good name. I like it,” he offered.

“No, you like Jon, who likes the name,” Daisy retorted. She was only wrong in that Martin did actually like the name ‘The Captain’, thank you very much.

“To be honest, I don’t think I really have a crush on him anymore,” Martin spoke thoughtfully, so very carefully attempting to take them away from the idea. In the long run, this would be funny. In the long run, and also watching everyone’s faces morph into concern, as Martin knew they were worried about the bet.

“What?”

“But Martin,” Tim stepped in first, “You’ve liked him for ages. And he’s been so much better with you- You two are getting closer…” he trailed off.

Melanie tried next, “Yeah, we thought you two had been getting closer. If anything, I thought you’d have fallen further.”

A decision had been made when Martin found that betting spreadsheet. He wasn’t giving up now. Now he was just going to completely fuck with them.

“I mean, we have gotten closer. But the closer we’re getting, I think it’s ruined this mysterious figure I’d always seen him as, and I rather me and Jon were just friends,” Martin nodded to himself, stroking The Captain, “And anyway, you lot tried to warn me against it when you found out. Why is this a problem now?”

When no one out of five people didn’t answer, it truly spoke volumes. Because they weren’t giving in either.

“Okay, while you all try and come up with an answer to that, I’m going to go and introduce The Captain to Rosie,” he said, picking up the kitten, making cooing noises, and walking out of The Archives.

Maybe it had thrown them off the scent?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what The Captain looks like: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/362891682450724450/  
> If the link doesn't work, it's a fluffy, white kitten with big blue eyes that I have aggressively shown my housemates since I found the photo.
> 
> Additionally: I usually upload these at like 00:27 UK time, so they do sometimes say they're uploaded on Tuesdays and Saturdays, but they technically aren't. It's annoying.
> 
> Next chapter: Daisy and Basira start trying out fanfic tropes in their efforts to get Jon and Martin together.


	6. We Are Unholy, Awful People *Grins*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Daisy and Basira's turn to do something: after all, Artefact Storage is a really romantic setting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was going to be Tim and Sasha who locked them in Artefact Storage, but I thought Daisy and Basira needed more screen-time, especially as I've planned what Tim and Sasha are going to get up to next...
> 
> Also: on their Sunday live stream, Jonny and Sasha named my new duck and crab soft toys, and I'm just so fucking happy it's ridiculous

The Five Best Settings For Romantic Get-Togethers:

1\. Parks

2\. Cafés

3\. Fancy Restaurants

4\. At one of their homes

5\. Artefact Storage At The Magnus Institute

* * *

“Right, Basira. What are we looking for? …Basira? Oh, I see.”

About ten minutes prior to this moment, Basira had come into Jon’s office asking if he’d mind helping her find something in Artefact Storage, as she didn’t want to go by herself. While Jon had no memory of assigning her a statement involving anything in there, he obliged, following her past the other desks.

“Oh, Martin? We’re going to Artefact Storage and you’re tall enough to reach the top shelves; would you mind helping?” Basira asked with such nonchalance, that neither of them suspected that Basira Hussain, of all people, would do anything to increase her chances of winning the bet.

“Sure,” Martin stood up, and picked The Captain up from where she was on his desk, “Tim, could you just watch her for me?”

Once the three of them had all collected special gloves, on the off chance they came into contact with any items, Basira ushered both men into the room first. And promptly shut the door.

“What’s wrong?” Martin turned around, to see Jon pointing at the closed door, and lack of Basira. “Ah. Is it locked?”

Jon checked the handle, “Er, yes and no. No, because no one is allowed access to the key for Artefact Storage, in case people get locked in, much like we are now. Yes, because I’d take a good guess that Daisy is on the other side, holding it in place,” he whispered the last part. She was. In fact, Daisy came up with the plan, to at the very least try a fanfic trope (no one was questioning her knowledge on such things; they knew better).

“Why are we whispering?” Martin joined in.

“Because I’m pretty sure she can hear us if we don’t.”

Jon wasn’t wrong: Daisy and Basira had tested this system the day before, so that they knew when to ‘unlock’ the door – mainly so they didn’t ruin a moment that could have gotten the lovesick fools together.

“Oh, I see,” Martin returned to his normal volume, so that Daisy would think nothing of the ‘silent’ period. “Great, so I guess we’re just in here until someone comes and finds us then.”

Jon made the sound of agreement, loud for Daisy, then quietly added, “We could just talk about what’s in here, like co-workers should? Foil their plans.”

This was taken into effect rather quickly, even if Jon believed – and just assumed Martin read his mind now – that he could get away with other things, if they weren’t being watched.

“God, some of the stuff in here is so… I don’t have the words.”

“What? In all of those poems, this situation never came up?” Jon snarked. He stepped closer to Martin, and then closer, until their lips were almost touching. T’was a tender moment.

“Amazingly, no. They are all mainly about y- oh wow! Is that the doll from the Lintott case?”

With some disappointment that this time alone wouldn’t lead to, at the moment, even a kiss, Jon turned to see what his boyfriend was more interested in: it was one of those things that (mainly) elderly people owned, those dolls with big skirts that sit on toilet rolls. This one had a weird fluffy/feather skirt, platinum blonde hair, a little silver tiara, and its arms were stretched out in front like a zombie. At least it was in a glass box (because what creepy haunted doll wasn’t going to be in a glass box?).

“What’s the Lintott case?” he joined Martin in watching the object, horrifically aware of his surroundings and not to touch anything without the gloves.

“Hm? Oh, er, just your classic haunted doll case, really. Meant to move when people aren’t looking; strangled a guy; causes heart attacks; your usual,” Martin shrugged, “I just remember it being in the papers at the time. Belongs La Isla de las Muñecas if you ask me. More like The Island Of The Spiders, anyway.” He laughed at that last part, and Jon would have adored hearing that laugh, if he weren’t really confused.

“Sorry, what?”

“Like on Buzzfeed Unsolved.” Then Martin got it. “Jon, you have seen Buzzfeed Unsolved, right?” with the only reply being a guilty glance up at Martin, the answer was clear, so he went quieter, “You uncultured heathen. Right, we are having a Buzzfeed Unsolved marathon. When we get out of here, that is.”

It was a difficult one, as Jon couldn’t decide whether not seeing these things was good or bad. Unfortunately, it meant that he didn’t get a lot of references (as seen here), fortunately, Martin insisted on making sure Jon had seen these things if he found out – and who was Jon to say ‘no’ to spending more time with his boyfriend?

* * *

The next twenty minutes were spent looking through more the objects (obviously excluding Leitners, because fuck him, 4 years dead baby!) and seeing what they remembered or speculating what they did. After the second ‘screaming skull’, Jon had attempted to hold Martin’s hand, but had been warned against it, in case someone walked in. Both of them were equally pissed off at this, but knew Martin was right.

“Ooh, is that the golden hare?” He pointed to yet another glass box, inside a hare that was really more of a brass colour, but then again, the lighting in here wasn’t very good. “Did you ever read ‘Masquerade’ and about the national treasure hunt?”

Jon squinted at it for a moment, “‘Catherine’s long finger over shadows earth buried yellow amulet midday points the hour in light of equinox look you’ I believe. I got quite into the whole thing when I was about twelve, and no, it’s not. I remember it being put in here.”

Martin watched expectantly, waiting for an explanation longer than it should have taken Jon to expand on the story.

“Ms Flora Kershaw brought it in a year or so ago, I took her statement. Apparently, it was passed between families for quite a long time, went through charity shops and auctions, until Ms. Kershaw brought it to us – wrapped entirely in bubble-wrap and duct tape, plus a box for good measure. She was very insistent that it wasn’t to be touched.”

Martin looked at the artefact; it was nothing special, just a six-inch statue of a hare. That’s what worried him most about anything in here, that it looked so normal, and yet it had caused such destruction – Jon didn’t have to explain any further that it had, it wouldn’t be here otherwise.

“According to her, it will grant you three wishes, if you hold it and say whatever it is you want out loud – however, the wishes always turn sour. Very much a ‘be careful what you wish for’. The example I remember best, was that one man wished to win the lottery, but everything he bought with that money ended badly, one of which being that he paid for his brother to go on an expensive cruise, the ship went down. Violently.”

“Lovely,” Martin grimaced.

It was starting to become difficult, as interesting as all of this was. The dull conversation that could only ever become endearing if they kept their voices down, because there was a scary woman on the other side of the door who could hear them. A scary woman who had now had enough of them not getting together, as the door creaked open.

“Martin? Jon?” It was Basira, the traitor. “Oh, thank god you two are alright. The door managed to shut and got jammed. I hope you didn’t get too bored.” And her acting would have paid off too if Jon and Martin weren’t aware of ulterior motives.

“We’re fine,” Jon replied through gritted teeth, “What were you looking for?”

She held the door open wide, “Oh, it doesn’t matter, turns out it made it’s way into research. C’mon, no use staying in here any longer than you have to.”

* * *

None of them said anything on their way back to the Archives, Jon and Martin because they wanted to keep the charade up, and Basira because she thought Martin knew she had done it on purpose.

“Jon, do you want a cup of tea?” Martin asked, as they walked past the break room.

“Yes please, Martin,” he answered, “Actually, I’ll find that statement I was telling you about, I’ll be in my office.” Both heard a huff from Basira, and a snort from Tim, who was still at his desk, petting The Captain, who in turn was watching Jon (and wanting to know why he hadn’t pet her in the last forty minutes).

A few minutes passed before Martin made his way into Jon’s office with the cups, setting them down, and immediately walking out again. Jon would have remained confused if he hadn’t heard the grumpy words, “Give her back,” and the return of Martin and The Captain in his arms.

“They don’t get kitten privileges for locking people in creepy places,” Martin explained, passing his kitten over to Jon’s now open arms.

They didn’t have to press a glass to the door to hear the exasperation from Daisy and Basira telling Tim that it hadn’t worked, and him complain that he was fully aware.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My mother recently got one of those doll toilet-roll things, and next time I go home, I am going to hide it, because that thing is horrifying. Secondly, if anyone gets the hare reference, double points for you.
> 
> Next chapter: the Archival Staff go out for drinks. Yes, it's a little cliché, but it needs doing. Especially because we all know who's a light-weight...
> 
> Thank you for all the wonderful comments and kudos xx


	7. Children With Drinking Permits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the old favourite: the obligatory pub chapter.  
> Where Tim, Melanie, and Georgie manage to get Jon and Martin to the pub. With alcohol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning:  
> mild harassment at the bar, which is quickly shut down, and nothing becomes of it
> 
> Longer one today, folks. Got carried away, sorry!  
> And it's more just good vibes, because I think we need them

Today was a bad day.

Or a good day.

It depended on who you asked.

When Jon had woken up that morning – already annoyed that it was his own bed he’d woken up in – he never expected it to go the way it did. But hey, wasn’t that part of the job description for working at The Magnus Institute?

When Tim had woken up that morning, throwing on a Hawaiian shirt and his pair of Heelys, he expected an average Friday from the Archives: him, Sasha, and Melanie would fuck around a bit, because it was Friday, blast the YMCA Mothman song at least ten times, and then drinks with Martin and Georgie. Maybe Basira and Daisy if they weren’t ‘busy’.

When Martin had woken up that morning, with The Captain smothering his face, and the left side of the bed cold, he didn’t even remember it was Friday for a moment or two, until he did. Tomorrow would be different, Martin knew this. Him and The Captain were staying with Jon this weekend (The Captain would be sneaked in, more stealthily than Jon had ever been in his life), so Martin just needed to wait. It was just another Friday. Right?

When Melanie and Georgie had woken up to Georgie falling face first onto the floor, the two of them took a guess that today would be ‘interesting’. Neither of them liked called something ‘normal’ or ‘average’ anymore, so had instead expected something different from the previous day. But not… this.

But then Tim went and asked, “Hey, Jon? Do you want to come for drinks with us tonight?”

He did this most Fridays, unless Jon was being more of a prick than usual – Tim noted that this hadn’t been the case for quite some time and should really look into it at some point… but that wasn’t today’s main concern.

“No thank you, Tim. I’m busy,” Jon replied, sparing a glance up from a statement.

“Doing what?”

Tim had never, ever asked. He wasn’t sure why, but he just didn’t. Maybe if Tim hadn’t of asked, the outcome wouldn’t have been the same. But Tim had asked. And Jon was not expecting to have to find a way out that did not consist of ‘Martin and his kitten are staying over this weekend, and I don’t want to spend another minute not in my boyfriend’s arms.’

“I have jury duty.”

“At night?”

 _Shit!_ “…yes?” Jon winced. Oh god. He knew what Tim was like, how stubborn the man could be. It may be easier too just give up now, and apologise to Martin later, actually.

Tim grinned, “You know, if Georgie were to find out that you were avoiding this, they wouldn’t be pleased.” Ah yes, the wrath of Georgie Barker-King. He wasn’t for facing that ever, ever again. “We’re meeting at eight, at The Temporary Saint. So…?”

_Who names these things?_

The breakroom was meant to be a safe space (to a certain degree, especially when two people pretending not to be dating could not hide in there). That’s why Martin liked it. Or it was a safe space until Tim cornered him while trying to make cups of tea.

“Martin! I take it you’re coming out for drinks tonight?”

“Ooh, sorry, I’ve got something on tonight,” Martin apologised, hoping Tim wouldn’t pry further.

Oh, how wrong he was, “What is it? Because I can almost guarantee that it won’t be better than what I have to offer up.” The look Tim was giving was the same one he’d given Martin that time, months before, Tim had decided it was a good idea to stick googly eyes on all – and that meant _all_ – of the portraits in the institute. No one was sure how he had managed it without a stepladder, but he did.

“Well, you tell me your thing first,” Martin eyed him, very suspiciously.

“Martin, I managed to convince Jon to come with us!”

 _Oh, no, no, no._ No matter what Martin had said to convince Tim and the others that he was no longer interested in Jon (he specifically used the word ‘crush’, so he wasn’t technically lying), it was not working. But he couldn’t just let Jon go by himself – Tim would definitely use this as an excuse to get Jon very drunk, and Martin had seen Jon drunk before. He was a lightweight, and he would undoubtedly start telling people about his boyfriend. Martin wasn’t going to give into this, not just yet. They could hang on a bit longer.

“Did you now?” he purposefully gave off the most unimpressed vibes humanly possible. Fuck it, Martin could at least play with this a bit, “And why would that be of any importance to me?”

Tim gave him a quizzical stare, “Because you fancy him. And I thought you might like to spend some more time together,” answering like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Okay, so we spend plenty of time together,” _not enough time together_ , “And secondly, I don’t have a crush on Jon, Tim.”

“Are you coming to drinks tonight or not?”

“… Yes. I’ll get someone to look after The Captain.”

* * *

**Jon**

**Martin** (10:58): so, pub?

 **Jon** (10:59): While I would like to, it is 11AM.

 **Jon** (10:59): Oh. You mean with Tim at The Temporary Saint?

 **Martin** (11:00): yep

 **Martin** (11:01): I have two questions actually one being why

 **Martin** (11:01): the second being do we know why its called that

 **Jon** (11:02): I know, I’m sorry, but he cornered me and threatened to get Georgie. I did try and get out of it. And I don’t know. I think someone got a random adjective and noun generator.

 **Martin** (11:05): jon, what was your excuse

 **Jon** (11:07): It really isn’t important.

 **Martin** (11:07): Jon, sweetheart, honey, my darling. Tell me.

_(Damn. He was using proper punctuation, and everything.)_

**Jon** (11:15): I said I had jury duty. At night. It did not work.

 **Jon** (11:16): Just so you know, I can hear you laughing.

* * *

Jon had never actually been inside this pub before. It was too close to the institute, and he didn’t want to be spotted by co-workers, so Jon just chose to drink alcohol wither with Georgie or alone. Which sounds sadder than it actually was. Nowadays, it was him and Martin (and of course The Captain) who would drink lightly on date nights (i.e., weekends) in their flats, since they would likely be spotted, and it was cheaper.

Before Jon had even gotten through the doors, Tim had spotted him a mile off, and was waving him over to the booth. Unsurprisingly, Georgie, Melanie, and Tim were sat on one side, leaving Martin and Jon on the other. Who’d have guessed, eh?

“Hey, boss! I was worried you weren’t coming,” Tim beamed, as Jon slid in next to Martin.

“Yes, well, Georgie would never allow that,” he glanced at where they were grinning at their own power.

“Drinks!” Tim announced, “Now we’re all here, I’ll get the first round.”

Against all odds, Tim managed to miss the manic looks the other four gave each other (Melanie included), as they all silently figured out how they could get the most out of this – before he put a limit on it. Tim almost never paid for a full round. This… this may have been the reason why.

Four pints and two bottles of wine later, Tim ordered his own pink cocktail with an umbrella.

“Y’know, I’m starting to regret this,” Tim mourned his bank account, watching Melanie and Georgie clink their pints, and deck the first two, and nurse the remaining ones. Jon and Martin had taken a slightly more artful approach, of clinking their glasses, and smugly sipping them while keeping direct eye contact with Tim.

After a swig of the abomination he had ordered, Tim continued talking about _something_ , and they all fell into an easy conversation, even if Tim and Georgie kept looking at the other of the two when either Jon or Martin spoke.

And it would have continued like that. It would, if only Martin hadn’t kindly offered to pick up the next round.

Context: Jon had already had too much to drink. It usually only took him a couple of glasses anyway, but Martin had never watched his boyfriend drinking so closely. Halfway through the third glass, Jon was scooching nearer to Martin, and attempting physical contact, which Martin was doing his absolute best to ignore and/or swat Jon away before the others noticed – not that it would matter, they knew Jon liked him. They just didn’t know that Martin also knew. This was the main reason Martin had gone to get the next round, to stop Jon from crawling into his lap.

“Hi, please could I have 2 pints of San Miguel, a glass of merlot, a glass of riesling, and a pitcher of Blue Lagoon,” Martin asked the bartender, putting the cash in front of him.

One bottle of wine didn’t typically do anything other than make Martin tipsy, but that did not matter in the fact Martin had not noticed another man at the bar.

“Hey there, handsome.”

 _Oh, no, no, no._ Martin did not want this today. He generally took more of an ‘oh for fuck’s sake’ approach than panicking. He could handle himself – that wasn’t the problem.

“Er, no!” Martin said, faux-cheerfully.

“Why don’t you let me buy you a drink before you decide, hm?” the stranger had stood up now, several inches shorter than Martin.

“Nah, I’m good,” Martin replied, picking up the tray of drink waiting for him. But when he turned to walk away, he felt a grip on his elbow.

“Not so-“

“Hey! Get off ‘im!”

He knew that voice. Martin didn’t even have to turn around, he could hear the sound of footsteps, as Jon all but ran at the situation. “He said no, get lost.”

“Who’re you, his boyfriend?”

“No!” Martin shouted way too quickly, “Just a very good friend.” _Good save,_ “Now, get fucked, dickhead.”

As Martin walked away, he heard the clapping from the booth before he saw it. Tim, Georgie, and Melanie all stood in ovation, doing over-the-top bows towards him.

“Nice one, Martin,” Melanie whooped, before sitting back down, “Good on you for standing up to him. I’m very proud of you. And Jon: Martin’s knight in shining armour, how sweet.”

That was not good.

Negotiating sitting back down was more difficult that Martin thought, as he had to stop himself from shoving Jon in first, who was hovering far too close for it not to be suspicious. “God, Sasha’s going to be annoyed she missed this one,” Tim laughed, pouring his drink. “Make for a good story, one day.”

“Yeah,” Jon piped up, as Martin eyed him from the side, “I wish I had more good stories, or even memories from hanging out.” Oh, if ‘hanging out’ was the phrase used, he was pissed.

“Some of my best memories were lounging in the garden on Summer days, with my dad,” Tim reminisced, “Mum would work during evenings, and Danny was out playing with his friends, and didn’t drink anyway – good on him, though. I was 17, 18? Four bags of crisps and half a bottle of vodka between me and dad, maybe some music, the two of would just sit and talk. I would give anything to have one more day like that.”

Tim knew he was lucky enough to have gotten along with his parents, as most didn’t. He missed them all very much, mum, dad, and Danny. But he was very thankful that he at least had the memories of it.

Georgie was the next to give a pleasant sigh, a sip of their drink, and tell their story: “One of my favourites, was that at the end of each year, all of my mum’s side of the family would meet up for a meal and a drink. It was lovely really, although in the later years, I was more concerned about them using the wrong pronouns, even I hadn’t said anything about it. Grew apart, I don’t think they even know I’m married.” They smiled at the last bit, kissing Melanie’s cheek, and receiving a similar smile.

Martin remembered the wedding well; it was a delightful affair. He had noticed at the time that none of Georgie or Melanie’s relatives had attended but chose not to ask in case it broke something within them. It was far more important that all of their friends were with them; they were their families. Obviously, this was prior to Jon and Martin getting together, so Martin spent most of the evening hoping Jon would ask for a dance (spoiler alert: he didn’t, Jon was too worried Martin would have said ‘no’).

The rest of the night, if you can believe it, went without much of a hitch, Martin agreeing to take Jon ‘home’ – by which he meant, collecting The Captain from Rosie, and then passing out in Jon’s flat, holding each other tight enough to make up for that evening.

Martin would quite like to have done all of this later on, when the group knew about them, so him and Jon could be themselves. It would be… nice. It may have been drummed into him since year 2 not to use that adjective, even as a poet, but it fit. He didn’t have many good memories from when he was younger, caring for his mother and whatever school had against him, but Martin knew these were what people referred to as ‘the good old days’.

These were the times for making memories.

And he would not waste them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: back to the fanfic tropes, as Tim books the hotel for a field trip and (because why the fuck not) books Jon and Martin into a double room.
> 
> Thanks for reading xx


	8. OTP (n.): One True Pairing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elias sends all of the archival staff on a field trip for two days, and Tim sees this as the perfect opportunity to try and get his OTP together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important context: firstly, I have completely made up the town and its name (my geography is horrendous, so it's easier this way).
> 
> FOR THOSE OUTSIDE THE UK: Travelodge is a chain of hotels known for being cheap. They're alright. Premier Inn is also alright.
> 
> And content warning for Elias misgendering Georgie briefly, but the others go for him.

Monday mornings never went well. This was a given.

Last Friday, Tim had managed to get Jon out for drinks, and was eager to comment on Drunk!Jon’s saving Martin from unwanted attention – who then had to feign ignorance of the knowledge that Martin had told him in detail, and Jon cringed desperately at the thought.

(“Boss, it was adorable.”

“Get out of my office, Tim.”)

So today wasn’t going great. When Elias showed up, it was less-less great.

The snotty prick waltzed in like he owned the place (which, to be fair, he sort of did), four manila folders in his arm, and didn’t even knock-on Jon’s office door. “Ah, Archivist, I have a gift for you,” Elias grinned, throwing the folders in front of Jon.

He eyed them suspiciously: Elias never came down to the Archives unless he wanted to cause trouble, and he certainly never delivered the statements himself, Rosie would do that. Bitchard smirked at this reaction, and then took a single step so he was just outside Jon’s office and spoke to all of the staff down there.

“This morning I received four statements, and I would like all of you to take the next three days off and visit Ledmouth in order to follow them up. In addition to this, two of them are concerning items that, if true, need bringing back and taking to Artefact Storage. Archivist, I am giving you the institute’s card to pay for the hotel rooms and food, as you are the most trusted in this,” Elias reached into his pocket, and placed the card near Jon, who was stifling a laugh (Martin had raised his eyebrow and gently shook his head at ‘most trusted’).

There was a stage-cough from the back of the main room, where Melanie had her hand up, “Can I bring Georgie?”

“I don’t see why not. But please ensure Miss Barker does not distract you from your job,” he sighed, Knowing it was the easiest option.

“ _Mx._ ”

“It’s Mx. Barker- _King_ ,” Daisy growled at the same time as Melanie.

“Very good. I’ll leave you all to it.”

The seven of them watched as double-boss walked out with as much pride as he’d entered with, all scowling at Elias’ choice in wording. It was purposeful and it was cruel, and the bastard knew it. No one said a word until they could no longer hear the tapping of heels.

“One day, I am going to stab him,” Melanie said matter-of-factly.

“Yes, you will,” Tim answered, rather proud of her. “So, Ledmouth?”

Jon stared at the card in his hands for a moment, before stepping over to Sasha desk, and holding it out to her, “Would you mind booking the hotel for us?” she nodded, and he turned back to the rest of the room, “We are going to spend more funding from that card in the next two days than we have as a department in the last two years.”

(“I take it they're all going then?” Peter asked, having manifested in Elias’ office as the other stepped in.

“Yes, and I rather think I’m going to win this one, dear,” Elias walked over, tilting Peter’s chin up, “I can’t wait for the proposal.”

“I still think that the others will figure it out before they slip up – two of them are ex-police officers, after all.”)

* * *

Unfortunately, trains and buses were out of the question.

Fortunately, Tim and Georgie both had cars.

Unfortunately, they were divided up into the following groups: Tim, Sasha, Jon, and Martin in one car, Georgie, Melanie, Daisy, and Basira in the other.

And why was this so bad for Jon? Perhaps it was Tim’s incessant desire to push him and his boyfriend together, perhaps it was the concern over if he and Martin would slip up? No.

Tim had made a playlist for their journey. And Sasha was letting him.

“What even is this?” Jon whined from the backseat, where he was (assumingly purposefully) situated next to Martin, who kept alternating between giving Jon amused and pitiful looks.

“This, Jonathan, is Lesbian Jesus, how do you not know Lesbian Jesus?” Sasha twisted around in her seat, which would have been much more effective providing she’d managed to achieve eye contact, since he was sitting directly behind her.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, attempting to sulk until he heard the next song play, “Ooh, I know this one though.” Who would have guessed ‘Dancing Queen’ would be the only song on this playlist Jon knew? Well, Martin. Jon was even singing along, very quietly, so that only Martin could hear over Tim’s dramatic rendition – until the music very suddenly stopped.

“Hey! I need my road tunes,” Tim complained from behind the wheel.

“And you can have them back in a moment,” Sasha explained, “But this is very important: Tim, did you just sing ‘feel the meat on the tangerine’?”

There was a pause, and a snort from the back seat.

“Is that… is that not it?”

“ _Tim!_ ” Martin cackled, “It’s ‘feel the beat on the tambourine’, bloody hell.”

“Yeah, well, we’re here now, get out of my car.”

There was a sharp breeze hitting against them, as the four removed their bags from the boot of the car, Georgie’s pulling up not far behind. “Sasha, why did you book us in at a Travelodge?” Jon questioned.

“Because it doesn’t matter how much money you want to spend, there is no where else to stay here,” she commented, herding the group to the reception area, “And Tim likes the breakfasts.”

Neither Jon nor Martin had been paying much attention as Sasha got all of the key-cards, talking to the receptionist. It had been agreed that two doubles (for Melanie and Georgie, and Daisy and Basira) and four singles would be booked, and that Sasha would be booking them, as the most trusted. So, when Jon and Martin caught what the receptionist said, they really couldn’t say they were surprised.

“Okay, so I’ve got you down for three doubles, and two singles. Will the doubles need two key-cards each?”

“Oh, but I thought it was two doubles, four singles. Oh well, Jon and Martin, looks like you’re bunking up,” Tim didn’t even have the decency to act like he knew nothing about this, and by the way Sasha sighed, she had clearly not booked the rooms.

Martin stared daggers at Tim, “And why can’t that be you and Sasha?”

“Er because we’ve got the cards for the two singles,” Tim waved them. “And er, quick, Sasha, run, run!” With that, Tim and Sasha fled the reception area in search of their room (only returning once, because they’d ran left and not right).

“Oh, the horror,” Melanie snarked. “Who knows, maybe it’ll make you closer friends.” With that, she took Georgie’s arm, and they led her away long with Daisy and Basira, who wore identical smirks.

As Jon and Martin walked through the corridors, searching for their assigned room, they were both slowly becoming impatient, needing to say things behind closed doors. After it had finally been located, and bags had been thrown down, Martin spoke. “ _And there was only one bed_. Oh no, a double bed, whatever will we do?”

“Yes, yes. At least it’ll be like most nights. Even if we aren’t woken up by The Captain running around,” Jon smiled, leaning against Martin.

“We’re lucky Rosie was able to look after her at such short notice.”

The rest of the day went off without much of a hitch, as they all later met up for dinner, and then retreated to hotel rooms, with tomorrow’s plan being to check out the statements they were sent to follow up.

* * *

Mornings were never good. But they were better when you didn’t have an alarm.

It was almost picturesque to start with: sun beams creeping through gaps in the curtains, Martin and Jon curled together beneath a soft duvet, and a definitely locked door.

A loud crash, footsteps, and the far too cheery “Good morning lovebirds!” from a man in a Hawaiian shirt? That, as it turns out, works better than an alarm clock.

“Arrgh!” Jon practically screamed, as he and Martin had instinctively pushed away from each other, leaving Jon to fall from the bed, landing on his back. “Tim, what on earth are you doing?”

“It’s a wake-up call, we need to go for the breakfast,” he spoke like they were the idiots here.

“Tim, get out of our room!” Martin yelled, waiting for the other man to leave with a wink, before giving Jon a hand back into bed. “You alright?”

“I’ll live,” Jon grumbled, shifting back into a comfortable position, his head resting on Martin’s chest, where it remained for a good thirty seconds, then he lifted it up, “Martin, how did Tim get in here?”

* * *

Once breakfast had been dealt with, and all parties were dressed, ready for the day, Jon dished out the four statements (“Tim, for giving us the double room, you get to collect the pickled head in a jar.” “I’m sorry, the what?”); a screaming skull; a Spring-heeled Jack sighting; and something called The Beast of Ledmouth. The group split up, following Google Maps in whichever direction. It was 5PM when Jon and Sasha returned from some of the most tedious interviews ever completed.

Jon closed the hotel door behind him and lent against it. “Have fun?” Martin called over, from where he was laying on the bed, reading some poetry anthology he’d picked up in a charity shop earlier.

“Well,” Jon threw his bag and coat on the floor, reached the bed, and positioned himself in Martin’s arms, “Ms. Villin’s sighting of The Beast of Ledmouth proved absolutely nothing. Apparently, she had gone for a walk, stopped by a field of sheep for her lunch, put her sandwiches down, turned away, then they were gone. What a waste of time. What about yours? How was Tim?” Jon twisted himself around to Martin, who was carding through Jon’s hair.

“He sort of behaved, kept asking if I was looking forward to spending the night with you with suggestive eyebrows,” Martin sighed, “The 'artefact' is just the head of some guy, Culpepper, I think? Mx Broadhurst couldn't wait until it was gone, xe said his ghost was haunting Umbery Hall. All very spooky," he drew out the last word, as though from a kids cartoon.

“Martin!” Jon playfully whacked his boyfriend's arm, as a knock came at the door, “Oh for- five minutes. I just want five minutes.” He pecked Martin’s lips and made his way over to the door.

Daisy stood outside, arms folded, “We’re all meeting in Melanie and Georgie’s room for drinks in an hour – gives you time to pop to the off license.” And she left. Not unlike most of the interactions people had with her.

“Okay. Did you hear that?” Jon asked Martin, who was rooting through his own bag, until he found his wallet.

“Yep, better grab something. You coming?”

“I’ll get my coat.”

Two boxes of wine and a multi-pack of Quavers later (the latter being what Jon was entrusted with), the two had returned, dropping off coats and such on their room, before heading to Melanie and Georgie’s. Neither had even knocked on the door before they could hear Tim cackling from inside, and Sasha shouting at him not to do something.

“We could just turn around, you know,” Jon looked up at his boyfriend, “Go back to our room, drink, and pretend we got caught up in town. They’ll never know.”

Martin considered this for a moment: “Georgie would hunt you down.”

“Yeah, they would,” and Jon knocked on the door, opened by Basira, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

Melanie and Georgie were both lounging on their duvet-less bed, while a duvet-ed Tim tried to dodge Sasha, who was chasing after him, all while Daisy watched in confusion, until she put her foot out so Tim tripped. “Hey! Oh, you made it!”

He quickly recovered, and reached for the crisps, which Jon begrudgingly handed over. Georgie passed over two plastic cups, “Well done for dragging him along, Martin. Did he try and make up an excuse to get out of it?”

“Nah, just drew up some blueprints for an escape attempt, but nothing major,” Martin replied, pouring Jon a cup of wine. Which was something to be kept an eye on. _Again_.

“Oh Martin, be a dear and bring forth the wines,” Melanie cried from her side of the bed, making grabby motions at nothing in particular.

As the second night away, it was quite lovely to spend time together, and watching everyone individually try to thwart Tim’s plans. Rather entertainingly, Martin watched Jon gradually make his way through at least six bags of Quavers (impressive for someone determined to forget breakfast) between sips of wine. If he hadn’t been so focused on the amount of crisps Jon had gotten through, maybe he’d have noticed just how much wine Jon had drank too. Because Jon had been sat, slowly getting pissed off cheap red wine from a box, and it was a bit late when anyone noticed.

“God, would you look at the time,” Martin checked his phone. “We’d better go. C’mon, Jon. Let’s leave,” he spoke very softly, and placed his hand on Jon’s shoulder, to help the man steady himself. Jon, however, pulled away without hesitation.

“Sir! No! I h-have a boyfrien-nd!”

Silence. It took a few moments for Martin to realise what had happened around him, as he was too busy adoring Jon’s loyalty, and how sweet it was. Before the statement set in fully, he noted several gasps in the room. _Then it hit him_.

“What did Jon just say?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thank you to Sting (name of the account, I'm guessing not from The Police, but who knows) for giving me the perfect segway into the next chapter.
> 
> Next chapter: Jon and Martin have to control the situation at hand.  
> Thanks for reading xx


	9. Aren't We All Sinners?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a drunken revelation, Jon and Martin come up with a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you forgetfulmachine for the suggestion - here you are :)

Jon had no memory of the night before.

But considering he had the urge to throw up and stay in a dark room all day, he could take a pretty good guess at the events. There was a noticeable lack of warmth and physical contact from the other side of the bed, at which Jon rolled over to find his boyfriend wasn’t there but heard the sound of the bathroom door opening.

“Oh, you’re awake. How are you feeling?” Martin spoke with a bizarre tone, purposefully nonchalant.

“Like death. What happened?” Jon sat up.

“Now that is an excellent question.” Oh no. Martin was being insufferable. This was never good – something had happened last night, and it was going to be held over Jon’s head for the rest of time. Or until the end of the week.

“As I am sure you can tell, you drank quite a bit of wine and many, many bags of crisps. When I said we needed to go, I put my hand on your shoulder and you, rather sweetly, told me off because, and I quote, ‘I have a boyfriend’. In front of the others.”

“Oh god!” Jon buried his head in his hands, groaning. Martin sat next to him, putting an arm around the smaller man’s shoulders. It was only a matter of time really, but still. “I have to stop drinking with them. What happened after that?” he dared look up.

“Melanie was the first to ask what you said, and I covered it saying that you were drunk, and we probably wouldn’t find out anything by asking. We left after that,” Martin sighed. “But it was very lovely of you, if that helps.”

Jon blushed a little, as Martin leaned in to kiss him.

“Yes, well… I like you rather a lot.”

“Thank you,” Martin smiled, before sighing again, “I guess we’ll just have to tell them. C’mon, we’ve got just over an hour to check out. I’m sure they’ve all got questions.”

* * *

That ‘just over an hour’ went much quicker than expected, as Jon dreaded the moment that was drawing nearer, no matter how much Martin told him it was fine. Something just felt wrong – maybe they should have told them from them get go. It would have been much easier than the kerfuffle they had created. The others had made it to the car park before Jon and Martin emerged from the building; no one had made any moves to get into their vehicles, they were waiting for an explanation.

Jon visibly sighed, and forced himself to walk towards the staring crowd, waiting in silence, with the exception of Georgie, who couldn’t stop fidgeting, no matter how much they tried. They addressed the elephant in the room (car park?), “Jon, how long have you had a boyfriend?”

“About… it would be four months last week,” Jon said just loud enough for them to hear. Why wasn’t Martin being interrogated too? Surely everyone wanted to know how both of them kept this from all six of them for so long.

“And you didn’t tell me,” they stated, disheartened by the revelation.

“No, I know. I’m sorry Georgie. I just, I just wanted to make sure we worked first.”

“What’s he like?” Sasha asked, softly.

_They didn’t know._

The drunken confession… it had gone over everyone’s heads. They had completely missed the point of it and thought Jon had somehow managed to meet someone outside of work. None of them… wow. With a single glance shared between Jon and Martin, both of them knew what had to be done.

“He is… he’s quite wonderful. He makes me laugh a lot, and I like it when he’s around. I think he makes me a better person, and I should probably let him know all of this at some point.” Jon hadn’t quite meant to go so far, but once he started, there was no stopping. Jon was better with showing affections through his actions, whereas Martin was the poet in their relationship (and, y’know, in general), so this was interesting, to say the least. It took a moment to realise he was smiling.

Tim shifted a little, before talking. “You seem really happy. But I wish you’d told us, me and Sasha could have taken the double, you know? We didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Sorry, to both of you.”

It was weird to see Tim like this: not mucking around, trying to make people laugh at all opportunities. But Jon couldn’t feel too bad about it, Tim was part of the bet, after all.

“Is this a good time to bring up that I have a boyfriend also?” Martin wondered out loud.

“Wait? You as well! Okay, hands up, who else has a secret partner?” Tim threw his arms up in frustration. “Marto, you of all people, I thought you’d have told me. Wait did both of you know the other one had a boyfriend?”

Jon and Martin looked at each other for a moment, seemingly communicating via telepathy. They nodded.

“Great,” Daisy huffed.

“Jon…” Georgie exhaled. “How long have we known each other? No offence, Martin.”

“We had to share a bed” Jon screeched without meaning to, in a panic, “I- We- we just had to.”

It may have been this point in the plan of ‘let’s not tell them we’re dating unless they specifically ask’ that Jon and Martin started to understand just how cruel it really was. They honestly weren’t expecting Tim and Georgie to get quite as upset about it, but the question was whether or not the group would tell them about the bet going on Jon and Martin getting together.

“If there are no more revelations about our friends, can we please go?” Basira asked, appearing not phased.

* * *

The car journey back was pretty much silent, ignoring the occasional sneeze, cough, or sigh, until around 40 minutes in, when Jon, of all people, broke that silence.

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but can we please go back to how things were?”

“Please?” Martin added.

Sasha smiled, “Yeah. But could you tell us these things next time.”

“Why is it so important, anyway? I’m quite a private person, I just feel like there’s another reason,” Jon pried, Martin sitting up in anticipation for how Tim and Sasha planned to get out of this one _again_.

There was a very loud pause, as the two assistants thought up their best excuses quickly. It was amusing, though.

“I thought we were friends! It’s just… that. Yeah. Sash, why don’t you put some music on?” Tim’s voice going higher at the end, making Martin laugh and Jon smile, watching Sasha scramble to turn on the music.

Ah, back to normal: loud renditions of whatever the hell a ‘Taylor Swift’ was.

* * *

After being dropped off at the Institute, so that everyone could drop off their follow-up work to deal with the next day, the most important event of the day needed to be dealt with: collecting The Captain.

Martin had only ever left her with Rosie for an evening before, and never realised just how much he was going to miss his baby furball until a day into the trip to Ledmouth – it was impossible to miss Jon’s mourning for her too, especially when they saw an orange cat wandering the streets over the town and Jon was using all of his power to not go over to give scritches. At least Rosie didn’t live too far from work, so the two of them walked round without any problems (including leaving at the same time, no questions asked).

Jon had barely knocked when they heard scratching and mewing, causing small laughs from both men as Rosie opened the door and The Captain looked up with huge eyes, before flinging herself into Martin’s arms. “Miss us, eh?”

“Oh, hello you two,” she grinned, “Come on in.” She led them into the main room, “She’s been ever so good, haven’t you, love? Every time the door went, she would run up to see of it was you two. How was it?”

“Not bad, Tim managed to put us in a double room, though,” Jon snorted, stroking The Captain until Martin gave in and passed her over.

“I take it they still don’t know?”

Rosie, on the other hand, did know. She had known about Jon and Martin almost since the beginning, actually, after going down to the Archives once everyone except those two had left – and everyone knows how bad at being sneaky they (well… Jon) could be. Rosie just laughed at their antics, and after they’d explained everything, she had promised not to say anything to the others.

“Barely. _Someone_ had a bit too much wine, and blagged about having a boyfriend,” Martin at least gave an amused look, so both Rosie and Jon knew there was no anger behind it, “So they know we both have partners, they just don’t know it’s each other.”

“Aww. Right, well I’ll grab her majesty’s things for you,” she said.

“Thanks for doing this for us Rosie, we really owe you,” Martin spoke, following to help, while Jon cooed over The Captain, basking in the affection she’d missed so very much. As much as Martin wished he could get a photo, he ought to grab whatever was needed, but he did know this: this was it. This was the life he wanted, with Jon, running around after a white ball of fur, their own flat, instead of running between two. Maybe he’d have to mention it…

“Martin! Martin, help!”

Martin turned around to see The Captain’s claws tangled in Jon’s hair, who was panicking slightly, as this had somehow never occurred before. “Oh god.”

“Martin stop laughing, quick, help!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a little bit sadder than I predicted, but hey-ho.  
> Next chapter: let's just have some proper fluff
> 
> Thanks for reading xx


	10. Ah, Fuck.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Martin take the day off, and have a date night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively, this chapter is titled 'watch as a lesbian who has never been with anyone tries to write fluff about two men'. Apologies to my housemate who got the message "(name) you're straight" "wait no" "how do you describe men?"

“Morning,” Martin yawned into Jon’s hair, as they lay in bed, and Jon mumbled something as a reply.

It was a Friday morning, specifically the day after they had gotten back from Ledmouth and dealt with that whole fiasco. Upon returning and retrieving The Captain, Martin had asked Jon if he wanted to stay over (and in what world was Jon going to say ‘no’?), dinner and film included – which was a considerably better off than Tesco’s meal deal. So now, both men lay under warm duvets, with a small cat nestled between them, as the sun poked through the windows. It was bliss.

Until the alarm went off.

“Nooooooooo,” Jon whined, somehow digging further under the quilt and closer to Martin, who could just about reach his phone to switch the beeping off. “Want to stay here.”

“We could always take the day off,” Martin suggested, knowing full-well that Jon would never do that. Right?

Jon stilled. _He was actually considering it_.

There had been so many occasions where he’d gone into work deathly ill or gone in during the weekend. Martin had never once before managed to convince the man to take a day off – he’d actually been surprised that Jon went on that weekend away with him just before they got The Captain. Then again, Martin had failed to notice that every time he wanted Jon to take a break, Martin wouldn’t have been there to accompany him.

“Alright. Not like Bitchard can do anything.”

“What?”

Martin sat up with such force that Jon had hit the mattress face first, and The Captain had jumped up to Jon, in fear. “Shit! Sorry,” he rearranged himself, his boyfriend, and their cat, so they were all in similar positions to before. “Really? You’ll take the day off.”

“As long as you don’t move too much for the next hour, yes,” Jon grumbled, gripping Martin a little tighter to prevent this.

“Huh,” Martin smiled, then kissed Jon’s head. “I’ll text Rosie and let her know. What d’you want to do today then?”

After a few moments of thinking, Jon looked up, “Stay put for a while, then we could go to that fancy restaurant you’ve been talking about for dinner? Until then, let’s just laze around together. It’ll be nice.”

“Yeah, yeah it will be.”

* * *

Breakfast turned into more of a brunch, since they had both fallen back to sleep for a few more hours - only woken when The Captain placed herself just above Jon’s pillow, so that when Martin briefly opened his eyes, she was mere inches away, making him jump.

The problem when it came to food was that Martin could bake, but he could not cook, while Jon could cook, but not bake. It sounded a lot like a riddle, but the additional information that neither of them had ever managed to make a microwave meal without burning something, meant that it was just weird. This may have been the reason the Archives’ breakroom no longer had a microwave…

As Jon made brunch and Martin did his best to help, a phone and a playlist had ben sourced, because cooking with your partner is incomplete without music to sway to and Jon ask, “What is this?”

“What music do you know?” Martin replied, clicking the kettle on to make tea. “Maybe we could put some of that on, or else I educate you in the classics. Here, look through,” he passed his phone over, unlocking it.

“Could you stir this then?”

“Are you sure?” he laughed.

“I’ll make sure you don’t kill anything,” Jon retorted in the same tone.

Martin looked over after a minute or so had gone, “Have you really not found anything? Actually, do you know the name of any piece of music, just from ever?”

There was a pause, one which Martin could tell that Jon was considering something. Something important, possibly embarrassing. He wouldn’t pry, though, that would make Jon close up and Martin may have to use kitten privileges against him (then again, The Captain probably would not enjoy the loss of attention from Jon…).

“I’m going to tell you something, and I need you to promise you will not tell the others about this. Georgie is the only other person who knows, and I’m still worried they’ll out it,” Jon said quietly, while clicking on the internet browser and typing something in.

“Jon, I promise I won’t tell.”

The phone was pushed into Martin’s hands, and he looked at a photograph of several people. “I used to be part of a band.”

Then Martin recognised his boyfriend, stood in the centre, looking rather good. “How many belts are you wearing?”

“How is that your first question?” Jon shot back.

“I wasn’t sure what else to say!” Martin’s voice becoming a squeak. “You look very nice though. What were you called?”

“The Mechanisms. It was… it was my uni band. The videos are still up on YouTube, I can’t get them down-“

“Jon, I once watched Sasha have to turn caps-lock off for you, there's no way you're getting anything off YouTube,” Martin interrupted, smirking. Wow, who knew his boyfriend, The Head Archivist of The Magnus Institute, London, would have been in some band? And if Tim ever found out… no, Martin promised. “Thank you for trusting me, though. I really appreciate it. If we’re doing this, I could show you some of my poetry?”

“Martin, I love you very much, know that before I say what I’m about to say,” Jon took both of Martin’s hands in his own, both ignoring the love confession for the moment. “With all of my heart, I hate poetry. But for you, I will listen,” Jon nodded with adoration, trying not to laugh and keep eye contact.

“Oh, how dare you!” Martin giggled, trying to pull away as Jon went on his tip toes to kiss him. “I shall make it my mission to find one poem, _one poem_ , that you like.”

Jon bit his lip, “I mean, you can try. What kind do you write? God, if they’re all about me,” he laughed. “Martin, they’re _not_ all about me. Right? Martin?”

There was a fast blush, and Martin suddenly found his sleeve really interesting, picking at it with the hand that wasn’t being held by Jon. “That is a question.”

“Okay, now I have to hear them. Not now, but at some point, especially if you’re going to listen to my music.” Jon leaned back up, pulling Martin back down to peck him again.

“Don’t think I missed that before, by the way,” Martin stated, Jon tilting his head in confusion, “I love you too, you idiot.”

Then the smoke alarm went off.

“For fuck’s sake.”

* * *

Since Martin no longer had his car (long story, and one conveniently for another time), the two had opted to walk to the restaurant because it was a decent evening by British weather standards. ‘The Temporary Saint’ was out anyway, as it was too close to the institute, and the pub the others frequented on Friday nights, and therefore they could be caught easily – plus Jon wanted to something more romantic for Martin than order whatever deep-fried (admittedly rather good for those inebriated enough) ‘food’ and several glasses of their cheapest wine, which they could do at home. Martin’s flat. That’s what he meant.

So, here they were at the ‘Lieu De Restauration Sans Nom’.

Jon was only really aware of it because Martin had hinted at it a few times, but it was actually quite nice: not too high-end for them to feel out of place, and not pub-like enough for them to feel too dressed-up. It was Goldilocks perfect. The waitress had led them to the table-for-two that had been booked earlier, thankfully not in the middle of the room and close enough to the bar.

There was a single red rose to the side, and a freshly lit candle (which will not be a problem, thank you): it was undeniably romantic.

“Thank you, Jon. For this,” Martin gave a little smile that meant the world to Jon, “I am splitting the bill, however.”

Jon grinned at this, “You will not. I still have the Institute card. Elias will be paying for dinner, so find the most expensive wine on the list for yourself. I’m not making the same mistake again.” He’d made a deal with himself that two glasses were the limit tonight.

“Aww, you really know how to make a guy feel special, you know that?” Martin sarcastically replied, but Jon could tell it was in good humour. The waitress returned, taking down the order for a bottle of wine, a glass of red (looking up at them quizzically), and then the food order.

They had agreed on starters and mains, then they could have dessert at home. At Martin’s flat. That’s… yep. Never mind. Each ordered some seafood-based starter (you know, the ones they serve at fancy restaurants that we’ve all been to), and then the two most expensive mains on the menu (again, fancy ones that probably have fancy names). Before either knew it, the meal was done, and Martin was on his second bottle of wine after decreeing that he’d take it home if it wasn’t finished. T’was good wine; t’was good food. And really good company.

“I’m so glad Bitchard’s paying, I’d feel so guilty at making you pay for this,” Martin commented, watching Jon through long lashes. “Do you think this is how he eats every night?”

“No, he probably eats much better than this. And with all that money the mysterious Peter Lukas gives him,” Jon said, smirking.

“Oh god, yeah. Elias’ sugar daddy.”

“I wish I didn’t know what that meant,” Jon groaned, knowing Martin had said that for this exact reason.

This was the kind of night Jon honestly never thought he would get to experience. After Georgie, he just imagined that he would never find anyone else. But Martin? Martin was something else. Something he truly couldn’t explain, but Jon couldn’t imagine being without him. Not now.

“I really enjoyed today,” Jon smiled, reaching out to hold Martin’s hand across the table. “I really enjoyed being with you.”

Martin blushed furiously at the comment, not unlike he would have at any interaction with Jon prior to them getting together. “Me too. With you! I mean. Not that I don’t normally like it, this was just different,” Martin chuckled, leaning his chin into his other hand. Now was probably a good time... “Actually, Jon, there was something I wanted to ask you about. Since you’re over at mine all the time, and The Captain’s more ours than mine, I know we’ve only been together seven months, but do you want to move- oh my god.” Martin froze, looking over Jon’s shoulder.

“Martin? Martin, what is it?”

Tim.

“You two?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: ...is the next chapter.  
> Admittedly, the power got to me a little at the end.
> 
> Thanks for reading xx


	11. Supplemental

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Supplemental: the assistants group text chat throughout chapters 1-10

Chapter One: The Bet

**Mission Maybe It’s Possible**

****

**_Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (09:07): guys we just dodged a marto sized bullet

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (09:07): he almost found the betting table

 ** _Basira_** (09:10): why is it in the archives? Jon might find it

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (09:11): Because the pens there are better than ours…

 ** _What The Georgie_** (09:11): be careful, if jon finds it were all screwed

 ** _Melanie Fuc-King-Barker_** (09:11): if you just mean he wont talk to us, why is that a bad thing?

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (09:12): hes our fwend!

 ** _Just Daisy_** (09:12): really Tim?

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (09:13): that’s not the point, martin would be upset if he found out

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (09:14): we’re going to have to start pushing them together more, any ideas

**_Timothy Bi-con Stoker is typing..._ **

**_Definitely Sasha_** (09:14): tim whatever you’re going to say, no

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (09:14): sahsha nooo

 ** _Basira_** (09:15): yeah, Tim’s read way too much fanfiction to be allowed to do this

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (09:15): ive written it too!

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (09:15): i know. i was subjected to your destiel fanfics

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (09:16): im still not over it

* * *

Chapter Two: If It Weren't For Those Meddling Kids...

**Mission Maybe It’s Possible**

**_What The Georgie_** (12:04): I just spoke to Jon

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (12:05): Okayyy whys this of import

 ** _Melanie Fuc-King-Barker_** (12:05): Babe what did you do

 ** _What The Georgie_** (12:05): I asked bout martin and he hasnt even spoke to the guy today

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (12:05): WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT

 ** _What The Georgie_** (12:06): …to get them together?

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (12:06): georgie theyre gonna figure out we have a bet

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (12:07): stop being sus!

 ** _What The Georgie_** (12:08): fine

**_Basira_** (12:20): just found j+m in the break room being weird

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (12:21): is that where you were?

 ** _Basira_** (12:21): Yeah I was reading. Hang on, I’ll come and tell you

**_Melanie Fuc-King-Barker_** (13:30): I think Jon can hear us

 ** _What The Georgie_** (13:30): why

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (13:31): coz melanie opened the door nd he had a glass pressed to it

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (13:31): Which he threw back at the wall

 ** _What The Georgie_** (13:32): I shld get a job there to see this

 ** _Melanie Fuc-King-Barker_** (13:32): NO

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (13:32): NO

 ** _Basira_** (13:32): no

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (13:32): NO

 ** _Just Daisy_** (13:32): No.

 ** _What The Georgie_** (13:32): ok? ill see if he knows

 ** _Melanie Fuc-King-Barker_** (13:33): georgie don’t

 ** _What The Georgie_** (13:47): too late. Anyway he said he was busy and left when I brought it up

 ** _What The Georgie_** (13:48): you all thought I was the sus one

 **_What The Georgie_ ** **sent a photo**

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (13:48): omg georgie you have to be more subtle

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (13:48): jon defo likes marto back tho

 ** _Basira_** (13:49): We could just tell them

 ** _Just Daisy_** (13:49): No. Not now we have a bet

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (13:51): If we did, martin would think we’re optimistic and jon would think we’re being mean

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (13:52): tru

* * *

Chapter 3: A Quiet Night In

**Mission Maybe It’s Possible**

**_Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (19:27): guys martins flat is haunted

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (19:28): tim no

 ** _Just Daisy_** (19:28): wtf

 ** _Melanie Fuc-King-Barker_** (19:28): and why do you think this?

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (19:29): i went round to get some nail polish and there was movement in his room and a little yelp and he said there was no one else there

 ** _What The Georgie_** (19:30): Tim… are you sure he wasnt on a date or hooking up with someone?

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (19:30): no hed say im his bff after all

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (19:30): plus isn’t Martin ace?

 ** _Basira_** (19:31): how is this any of our business?

 ** _Melanie Fuc-King-Barker_** (19:32): coz we have money riding on it

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (19:32): i still think its haunted

* * *

Chapter 4: The 'Most Haunted' Flat In London

**Mission Maybe It’s Possible**

**_Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (13:31): so me and sash have had an idea

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (13:31): you have had an idea, I just don’t want you breaking things

 ** _Basira_** (13:33): what’s happening?

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (13:33): first things first

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (13:33): melanie and georgie r u both free friday and saturday

 ** _What The Georgie_** (13:36): yep why

 ** _Melanie Fuc-King-Barker_** (13:36): I have a bad feeling about this

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (13:36): okay so im thinking we start a new ghist hunting channel

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (13:37): timantha stoker this is not a good idea and you know it

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (13:37): but sash marto gave me the keys to his flat

 ** _Melanie Fuc-King-Barker_** (13:37): why?

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (13:38): coz hes going away for the weekend and gave me his keys in case anything happens

 ** _What The Georgie_** (13:39): tim are you proposing that we do an investigation

 ** _What The Georgie_** (13:39): absolutely!

 ** _Melanie Fuc-King-Barker_** (13:40): hey how can that be better than my proposal

 ** _What The Georgie_** (13:40): your proposal was wonderful sweetheart, thats why we’re married

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (13:41): tru dat

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (13:41): so whos free

 ** _Basira_** (13:42): me and Daisy are busy

 ** _Just Daisy._** (13:43): what Basira said

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (13:43): I’m coming, but only to make sure you don’t set the place alight

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (13:44): cool cool cool

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (13:45): we shld ask jon if hes free he might want tto see martos flat

 ** _What The Georgie_** (13:45): don’t he’ll shut the whole thing down and tell us we’re idiots

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (13:47): nvr mind hes busy this weekend i wonder what he does probs work

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (13:48): oooooohhh we can all dress in the scooby gang colours i have a green tshirt

 ** _What The Georgie_** (13:48): melanie has an orange jumper and i have a purple one

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (13:49): I shall buy a white jumper and a blue shirt. if we’re doing this we’re doing it properly

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (13:49): gr8 meet me and martos at 7 x

* * *

Chapter 5: Three Makes A Family

**Mission Maybe It’s Possible**

**_Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (09:07): so that just happend

 ** _What The Georgie_** (09:07): this is why I need to be there with you all WHAT HAPPENED TELL ME

 ** _Melanie Fuc-King-Barker_** (09:07): Babe Martin got a kitten!!!

 **_Melanie Fuc-King-Barker_ ** **sent a photo**

 ** _What The Georgie_** (09:08): ohmygodsheisthesweetestofallthingsilovehersomuch

 ** _What The Georgie_** (09:08): what’s her name

 ** _Just Daisy_** (09:09): that, Georgie, is where this gets interesting

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (09:09): her name is The Captain.

 ** _What The Georgie_** (09:10): wait what

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (09:10): jon must have suggested it

 ** _Basira_** (09:10): and Martin is a sap that let his crush name his kitten

 ** _What The Georgie_** (09:11): wow

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (09:11): oh it gets better

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (09:11): marto says hes over jon i do not believe him

 ** _What The Georgie_** (09:12): there’s no way martin’s over jon. martin would never name a kitten that without some sort of influence. he would name it something like marshmallow

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (09:12): susan

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (09:12): yes Tim, that’s exactly what Martin would name his kitten. either way it’s sus

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (09:13): v sus

 ** _What The Georgie_** (09:14): doesn’t Martin have a highland cow called Marshmallow?

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (09:14): yeah, I saw it once, I think it’s a comfort thing – Tim dont tease him for it

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (09:15): i wouldnt i have a duckling called feathers mcbillington

 ** _Basira_** (09:16): does anyone else have comfort plushies?

 ** _What The Georgie_** (09:16): I have a llama called steve

 ** _Melanie Fuc-King-Barker_** (09:16): i’ve got a flamingo named Freduardo

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (09:16): his name is gerald he is a crab

 ** _Just Daisy_** (09:18): well there’s that

 ** _Basira_** (09:18): you’re one to talk

 ** _Just Daisy_** (09:18): Basira I’d rather you didn’t. I’ll tell them about yours.

 ** _Basira_** (09:19): deal. Daisy has a red duck called Ketchup

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (09:19): the one from animal crossing

 ** _Just Daisy_** (09:19): Basira has a pink rabbit called Flora

 ** _Basira_** (09:20): yes Tim

 ** _Just Daisy_** (09:21): this took a turn. Martin’s still suspicious, this doesn’t change that.

* * *

Chapter 6: We Are Unholy, Awful People *Grins*

**Mission Maybe It’s Possible**

**_Basira_** (11:47): me and Daisy have just had an idea

 ** _Basira_** (11:47): we’re going to lock Martin and Jon in Artefact Storage

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (11:48): fair enough locking them in a room together, but why artefact storage?

 ** _Basira_** (11:48): because we can hear them through the door.

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (11:48): yea but what if they touch something dangerous it could kill them

 ** _Basira_** (11:49): oh shit

 ** _What The Georgie_** (11:49): basira tell me you’ve not already done it

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (11:49): thats where you took them?!

 ** _Basira_** (11:49): it’s fine, Daisy can hear them, she’ll sort it

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (11:51): I hope you’re right, but next time let’s talk it through please

**_Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (12:22): that cant have gone well

 ** _Basira_** (12:22): what makes you say that

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (12:22): MARTIN TOOK THE KITTEN AWAY FROM ME

 ** _Melanie Fuc-King-Barker_** (12:23): yeah you fucked it

 ** _Basira_** (12:23): you would be correct, Daisy says they just discussed the objects in there for half an hour

 ** _Just Daisy_** (12:24): yes, no fluff happened.

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (12:24): plan b it is then

 ** _What The Georgie_** (12:24): whats plan b

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (12:26): youll see

* * *

Chapter 7: Children With Drinking Permits

**Mission Maybe It’s Possible**

**_Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (10:58): ok whos free for drinkies tonight?

 ** _Basira_** (11:00): me and Daisy are busy

 ** _Melanie Fuc-King-Barker_** (11:00): when was the last time you two were free?

 ** _Just Daisy_** (11:01): We said we’re busy.

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (11:01): okayy melanie georgie sasha go

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (11:02): ofc i’m coming Tim, you’re my best friend

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (11:02): aww

 ** _Melanie Fuc-King-Barker_** (11:02): we’ll come, right Georgie?

 ** _What The Georgie_** (11:03): sure why not

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (11:03): wonderful becoz have i got a line up for you: jon and marto will both be attending

 ** _What The Georgie_** (11:05): oh this will be interesting I take it youve never seen him drunk?

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (11:05): he never comes with, why?

 ** _What The Georgie_** (11:05): he gets real sappy after a couple of glasses it’s v funny

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (11:06): omfg georgie thank you for this info

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (11:06): 8 at The Temporary Saint?

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (11:08): yep :)

* * *

Chapter 8: OTP (n.): One True Pairing

**Mission Maybe It’s Possible**

**_Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (14:11): i take it were giving jon and marto a double right

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (14:11): Tim you are a genius

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (14:12): we’ll play it that it’s an accident and oh no they’ll have to share a bed it’ll be fine

 ** _Basira_** (14:12): we also need to make sure they are in the same car on the way up

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (14:12): Tim can you book the rooms? I have to get this follow up done, and don’t have time

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (14:13): sure can sash what do we need

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (14:13): singles for you and me

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (14:13): i am hurt

 ** _What The Georgie_** (14:14): double for us please

 ** _Basira_** (14:14): And a double for us

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (14:15): a double or a twin

 ** _Just Daisy_** (14:15): Double.

 ** _Melanie Fuc-King-Barker_** (14:16): got it

**_Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (16:40): wow jon does not no any music

 ** _What The Georgie_** (16:41): and you only got this today? I could have told you that

 ** _Basira_** (16:42): funny how you two ran off when the double room was brought up. I’d have thought they’d of put up more of a fight

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (16:54): me too

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (16:55): weird but then again they are hopelessly in love so

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (16:55): cant believe jon gave me and marto the pickled head who even has a pickled head eww

 ** _What The Georgie_** (16:55): poor Martin. It’s probably to keep an eye on you

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (16:56): why i am innocent of whatever im being accused of

 ** _Basira_** (16:56): that’s why

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (16:57): ooh we should meet tonight for drinks

 ** _What The Georgie_** (16:57): sure, we can do it in our room in an hour

 ** _Melanie Fuc-King-Barker_** (16:57): hun why

 ** _What The Georgie_** (16:58): melanie it will be nice. someone go tell those two

 ** _Just Daisy_** (17:00): I’ll go.

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (17:01): thnx x

**_Definitely Sasha_** (22:47): wtf just happened

* * *

Chapter 9: Are We All Sinners?

**Mission Maybe It’s Possible**

**_What The Georgie_** (12:11): i cant believe he didn’t tell me

 ** _What The Georgie_** (12:11): wait no yes I can

 ** _Melanie Fuc-King-Barker_** (12:12): babe don’t blame yourself, you know what he’s like for telling us anything

 ** _What The Georgie_** (12:13): you’re right x

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (12:14): marto didnt tell us either

 ** _Basira_** (12:16): you can’t blame either of them, you lot would interrogate the fuck out of them and want to meet everyone immediately. It’s not very helpful when you’re trying to get to know someone

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (12:18): I suppose we can be a bit much

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (12:18): im gonna change the chat name though

**_Timothy Bi-con Stoker_ ** **changed the chat name to _Mission Probably Not Possible_**

**_Definitely Sasha_** (12:19): yeah i guess

* * *

Chapter 10: Ah, Fuck.

**Mission Probably Not Possible**

**_Basira_** (09:47): interesting that neither Jon nor Martin are in today

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (09:48): can’t say I’m surprised. they’ll both just get interrogated so we can meet their bfs

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (09:48): ooh sash could u go digging for info

 ** _What The Georgie_** (09:50): while that’s a great idea, jon will be pissed if he finds out

 ** _What The Georgie_** (09:51): then again he kept this from me too… Sasha go for it

 ** _Melanie Fuc-King-Barker_** (09:51): hun don’t

 ** _Just Daisy._** (09:51): what are we doing about the bet then?

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (09:52): call it off i guess

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (09:52): keep it, you never know. maybe they will break up with newbfs and figure it out

 ** _Basira_** (09:53): idk Jon seemed kinda taken when he talked about him

 ** _What The Georgie_** (09:53): we have to at least find out names we cant keep saying him

 ** _Melanie Fuc-King-Barker_** (09:53): I don’t mind

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (09:55): i was really hoping theyd make it work. marto used to talk about jon all the time and go bright red when they spoke.

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (09:55): wonder what changed

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (09:57): yeah, just one of those things. and as long as they never find out about the bet we’ll be fine :)

 ** _Just Daisy._** (09:57): does this mean we can leave early today?

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (09:57): hope so ive got a date tonite and were going to a fancy place

**_Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (19:41): guys something has occurred.

**_Timothy Bi-con Stoker_ ** **changed the chat name to _Mission Very Much Possible_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Next and Final Chapter: it looks like everyone has some explaining to do.
> 
> Not one person noticed that in the ghost hunting chapter, they were all dressed in Scooby Doo colours, it was that subtle. But it's there, and I haven't changed it XD  
> Also, the soft toys mentioned: they are just some of my collection, and those are their real names. I love them very much.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading this - I never expected such wonderful feedback, and will be doing more of this series because of it xx


	12. Bad Choices Make Good Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gig is up. Let's see what everyone has to say for themselves, shall we?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been one hell of a ride, and here you have it: the final chapter of It's A Good Kind Of Madness.
> 
> To every single one of you who clicked on this fic: thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I've never had statistics like it, and I really appreciate it.
> 
> Couple of specific thank yous: aegopodium (for all the marvellous comments and for inspiring chapter 4), Achernav (for all the wonderful comments and the half dissertation on chapter 10), forgetfulmachine (for all the magnificent comments and inspiring chapter 9).

> ‘But there’s nothing more profound than creating something out of nothing’ – _Fangirl, Rainbow Rowell_

* * *

**Mission Very Much Possible**

**_What The Georgie_** (19:41): tim what happened

 ** _What The Georgie_** (19:41): TIM WE NEED TO KNWO

 ** _Definitely Sasha_** (19:42): timantha jessica stoker explain yourself now

 ** _Timothy Bi-con Stoker_** (19:42): just meet me at martins asap all of you

* * *

After paying the bill, and with no speaking whatsoever, Tim grabbed both of Jon and Martin’s wrists, dragging them behind him out of the restaurant until they reached the road - despite both of them protesting to what would inevitably end up as bruised wrists (at worst, because they are both slightly, _very_ dramatic). “Tim! At least tell us where we’re going,” Jon pleaded, aware of the nails digging into his wrist.

Tim stopped, as they reached a zebra crossing, “Marto, I hope your flat okay for visitors.”

“Yes. …Why?” There was no answer, just Tim tapping at his phone, before grabbing them both again, as Jon and Martin traded startled glances while they could. Martin figured it out pretty quickly after that – it took Jon surprisingly longer than it should have, to complete the puzzle of ‘where is Tim dragging us’.

After only having to tell Tim he was going in the wrong direction twice (and Martin thought Jon’s navigational skills were bad – in fairness, they were worse than Tim’s), the three of them hurtled towards Martin’s flat number, where Melanie and Georgie were already standing.

“… I’ll open the door, shall I?” Martin asked with more sarcasm than usual – which was saying a lot.

If Martin knew he’d be having company other than Jon, he would have tidied up more. Then again, he could always blame it on the rascal known affectionally as ‘The Captain’, who Jon swooped into his arms before anyone else got the privilege – since she was already trying to climb up his skirt. This was it now, Jon could do all he liked, and if that meant hogging the kitten (and preferably other things that he would get to soon enough), then so be it.

“Sasha and Basira say they’re on their way,” Georgie commented staring directly at Jon, who was looking everywhere except at his oldest friend, as the five of them made their way into Martin’s flat.

“Er, would anyone like tea?” Martin managed out, to four nods.

He walked over to the kettle, filling it to maximum, and finding three extra mugs, totalling to five. One with ‘Woke Up Gay Again’ for himself (that Jon had bought for him); one with ‘I’m Not Gay But My Boyfriend Is’ for Jon (that Martin had bought for him); a rainbow mug for Melanie: a yellow knit patterned mug for Georgie; and one with a cow and ‘Moooooody’ on for Tim. Martin had never expected to get to use his entire up collection in one go, but here he was: thank god no one else wanted a brew afterwards.

Sasha arrived within the next few minutes, panting heavily despite Martin knowing full-well she went on runs in the evening, so she must have sprinted, then Daisy and Basira ten minutes later, obviously having driven, neither out of breath in the slightest. There was an uncomfortable amount of silence for a number of, similarly uncomfortable, minutes.

Tim finally broke into the atmosphere: “I’m going to ask it: are you two dating?”

“Yes,” Martin chose to answer with no hesitation. This was the agreement, him and Jon would tell the others if it was asked,

If they hadn’t known about the bet, Jon and Martin would have been very confused about the joint ‘oh thank god’ sigh in the room before real emotions started to show. Which ultimately began with Georgie.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were with him!” they half shouted, not in anger but more disbelief.

“I can’t believe you put a bet on it!” Jon shouted back with an equal amount of emotion.

Martin almost did the same thing out of impulse, but he was very nearly thankful getting to watch everyone else except him, Jon, and The Captain freeze and eye open slightly wider than before.

“You know about the bet?” Sasha squeaked out, not intending to.

“You were shit at hiding it! Of course, we know, why else would we have kept it a secret?” Martin exclaimed.

Rather amusingly, the others turned to Tim, “How is this _my_ fault?”

“I seem to remember you believing Martin had not seen the table, a few months ago,” Basira snarked, “And we weren’t the ones who kept it at our desks.”

Jon would have out his arms up in a ‘stop now please’ motion if he weren’t cuddling The Captain, “You all did it, you are all to blame.”

“As are you! You could have told us. So, when did it happen, you two?”

Martin and Jon shifted a bit first, looking to the other for an explanation, trying to work out how to even start explaining this whole thing. Eventually, Jon gave in.

“Fine. About six months ago.”

“ _Six months_! …That’s… oh my god how didn’t we see it,” Tim slowly worked through his thoughts, turning to Sasha who was also doing this but silently.

That was the main problem ‘Mission Very Much Possible’ were now figuring out (including Daisy, even if she was not pulling the face): how did they not get it sooner? Two of them used to be in the police service (not ‘force’, thank you ‘Hot Fuzz’), for Christ’s sake.

“Yes, maybe we should have told you,” Martin argued, “But we wouldn’t have hidden it if you hadn’t had bet on us getting together. None if you individually are to blame.” He crossed his arms like in impetuous seven-year-old.

There was a bit of a gap between Martin’s statement and someone answering, and by that it meant that Melanie put her hand up, “Who won?”

“Melanie!” Georgie cried.

“That’s what you’re all waiting for, isn’t it?” Jon asked, slyly, with a grin that made Daisy and Basira want to punch him, “Who won the fucking bet. Wow.”

Martin thwacked him gently, speaking with no malice, “Jon, stop being insufferable.”

“Oh, come on. You love it,” Jon smiled up at Martin, leaning against his boyfriend’s shoulder. Martin responded with a kiss to Jon’s forehead, with a mixture of a laugh and a sigh.

“Yeah, I do love it when you’re insufferable.”

“Oh my god, we thought you just had a crush on each other – this is disgusting,” Melanie blurted out, before pretending to gag. It wasn’t like she was wrong.

“Oh, I apologise. Isn’t this what you wanted?” Martin asked, sickly sweet, making kissy noises to Jon, who was just as amused by the situation and half-tempted to make them back.

The six of them groaned at the pure fluff they were watching/hiding their eyes from. Martin wasn’t exactly wrong either.

“Fine. You win. But please, will you just tell us who won?” Daisy demanded.

“Alright, we’ll put you out of your misery,” Martin chuckled, choosing to be the kinder of them for the moment. He pulled his phone out and swiped through his photos (unsurprisingly made up primarily of picture of The Captain, pictures of Jon, and pictures of The Captain and Jon) until he came across the table.

“And the winner,” Martin put on his best gameshow host voice, smirking at Jon visibly sighing, “Of the first round, of who asked who out, is… Melanie and Basira.”

“Yes! Suck it,” Melanie went in for a high-five at Georgie, who tentatively joined in, “Sixty quid each. Did anyone get the scenario?”

Jon continued to sigh in disappointment, “Yes.”

“Fuck, really?” Tim asked.

“Yes.”

Tim, Sasha, Melanie, Georgie, Basira, and Daisy were all on the edge of their seats – unless they were standing, then they lent forward like it would do something magical. Either Jon was just giving a really dramatic pause, or he was purposefully being obtuse. Which was entirely possible because he would do that if bored or avoiding paperwork. Or talking to Elias, which was entirely justified.

“Jon stop being a dick,” Martin spoke with all the fondness he could muster.

“What?”

Everyone, kittens included, jumped quite a bit when Daisy yelled, “Jon, tell us who won!”

“Basira won. Martin yelled at me and told me he liked me,” Jon rambled in fear of what Daisy may do, absent-mindedly rubbing his throat with the hand not taken up by a touch-starved furball.

“Ha, knew it. Two hundred and fifty pounds, please,” she grinned like no one had ever seen her do. “Tim, that means real money, not World Book Day vouchers again. I still don’t know how you got a hundred of those last time.”

“A magician never tells his secrets,” Tim beamed for a second, before he remembered he’d just lost £80.

“He has a cousin who works in a primary school, and persuaded her to gift him the leftovers,” Sasha explained, not looking up from her purse as she somehow dug £80 out that she just carries around. The noise Tim made, alone, was good enough. He’d never told Sasha that…

Surely enough, each person got out their wallets, fished out the right money, and handed it over. Which was weird, really, since everything is pretty much credit/debit cards, and no one should be carrying around more than a tenner, in case they get mugged. Huh.

“So, what do you want to know?” Martin piped up, taking a sip from his tea (get it, because he’s _spilling the tea_? Well, I think I’m funny…)

“Martin!”

“What? I need to tell someone.”

“Let’s do this chronologically. I have questions as we go,” Sasha announced. It was only fair (even if mainly for formatting reasons). “Starting with how you two got together. Spill.”

They looked to each other, half-hoping they wouldn’t be the one to tell the others how they got together, but Martin gave Jon a certain look that meant he would be at least starting the story. “Fine. Tim, remember that day I called you into my office to ask why Martin was frustrated at me – which was completely fair, I was a dick to him – and we spoke about apologising?” a nod was received, “Well I sort of apologised and, somehow, we both realised we liked each other. It was better than I’m making it out to be. That day.”

Tim and Sasha both gave mildly offended expressions, Sasha looking to Martin, “You said it was all sorted and you ‘weren’t exactly friends’,” complete with air-quotes.

“Yes, because we are closer than friends,” Martin retorted, patronisingly.

Tim, who had been stood up, moved about a bit, before settling down and sitting cross-legged on the rug, like a child in their school assembly. Here’s to hoping he wouldn’t shout out. “So, you found the really well-hidden betting table…”

“Remember that day Jon threw a glass against a wall because Melanie opened a door?” Martin explained, Jon scoffed at the way it was being told, “Basira almost caught us in the breakroom. You were really close.”

A small, pride-filled smile played on Basira’s lips, while Melanie gave a happy little hum, and Daisy gestured for them to continue the story.

“Tim nearly got us one evening. He needed some nail polish back, and Jon had to hide in the bedroom,” Martin laughed a bit at the memory.

“Oh my god, that’s amazing!” Georgie guffawed, “He thought the place was haunted.”

Tim sat up a bit, then shouted in response, “Hey, we all saw the TV go, I was not the only one!”

“Tim, stop now,” Melanie warned.

Both Martin and Jon took note of this. They certainly did not know what Tim was talking about, but Martin was slowly putting the pieces together, “That weekend we went away, and I gave you the keys for here in case something happened? What happened, Tim?”

He mumbled something only a moth could hear, so Sasha chose to tell them instead. “Tim asked us to come on a paranormal investigation. Daisy and Basira were busy, and I only came to make sure he didn’t burn the place down. Tim made a whole show out of it, didn’t you?” she teased, with a playful punch to the shoulder, really hoping this would shift all of the blame onto Tim, rather than the rest of them. No one was going to come out of this looking like a saint.

“You did what?” Jon slowly inquired, more in the tone of their boss than friend.

“We made a show. It was called ‘Perhaps It’s Haunted’,” Tim mumbled, then his voice rose, “Hey! That jumper we thought we’d seen before; it’s making sense now.”

Jon at least had the decency to blush at the realisation, looking down at The Captain who was becoming restless and wanted Martin now, so she was passed over.

“Yes, that would be because one of us is a little thief who doesn’t wear his own clothes,” Martin smirked.

“They are comfy,” Jon stated at the accusation. The quiet cooing from Georgie was not helpful.

“That’s another thing: Martin, when you got The Captain, who named her?” Sasha asked, very knowingly.

“Jon did.”

“You said you liked it.”

Daisy quietly snickered, “Knew it,” in between the exchange.

“I do,” Martin said, stroking the top of his kitten’s head, “It’s just funny. I wish you could have all seen it when we went to the shelter, Jon was so excited-“

“Martin!” Jon squeaked, having a horrible feeling he knew where this was going. He loved that cat, but he may not have much dignity after this – as though he had much in the first place, especially after that time Melanie found a way to get him to take part in a contest to see who could stuff the most marshmallows in their mouths (she won. 10 to 6. Daisy came second).

“You would have taken all of them home if you could. And I would have let you,” Martin admitted, “But you found her so quickly, and I could not say ‘no’.” Martin lent over and pressed a kiss to Jon’s cheek, who moved into him.

“Why did we bet on this?” Basira whined, “This might be worse than watching you pine for each other.”

“We are not going back, this means Martin can get Jon to come out with us,” Tim figured out, very pleased with himself. Jon had to try his best not to react to this, as he knew Tim was going to use Martin against him a lot now. Tim Stoker, who individually caused all the grey streaks in Jon’s hair. Wonderful.

“I thought that’s why you kept me around,” Georgie huffed from the sofa.

“No, love, we keep you around because you have The Admiral,” Melanie turned to her partner, “Then again, they’ve got one too now…” she added, promptly receiving a gentle elbow to her arm.

Tim stuck his arm up, and genuinely waited for acknowledgement before saying anything, “You said you didn’t like Jon anymore, when we asked about that. You lied to us.” A few nods followed, as they watched Martin explain his way out of it.

“I said I didn’t have crush on him. It’s not a crush if it’s requited. I never lied,” Martin proudly declared.

“And when you both said you had partners?” Melanie brought up.

Jon’s turn: “We just neglected to mention that it was each other.” Smug prick.

“I thought it was just someone we hadn’t met,” Tim complained, folding his arms.

Martin snorted with amusement, “How exactly do you imagine our social lives? Honestly though, we thought we’d been caught at that point – despite Tim’s rather loud wakeup call that we did not order.”

He was still rather proud of that one, actually. Managing to flirt his way into getting the room cards may not have been the most interesting of tasks, but Tim had done it perfectly, with a freshly ironed, seaside themed Hawaiian shirt and an award-winning smile. But being forced to collect the head in a jar was not fair, that Tim would still claim if pressed.

“Well, we’re equal now, since you managed to ruin my date tonight.”

“You ruined ours too!” Jon argued, “Martin was in the middle of saying something really important,” continuing through grit teeth.

Martin was thrown by this, not expecting to have this brought up until after the others had left. Damn it, Tim.

“What do you mean ‘something really important’?” Georgie repeated, obviously speaking for the room.

“Er, well…” Martin stammered, “It wasn’t _that_ important… I can’t even, er, remember in fact. Fancy that?”

Sometimes, Martin Blackwood was a terrifyingly good liar. During the times that were not ‘sometimes’, he was not. These not-sometimes moments had a large tendency to be when it was more of an emotional situation (again, mainly over Jon or his mother). So, this? This counted as a not-sometimes.

“Martin, it’s fine-”

“Er, fuck off!” Basira shouted with very little anger behind it, “We missed an awful lot, Martin you are going to tell Jon whatever it was _now_.” Well, that was that then.

He gulped, looking around the room, more aware than ever that he was being watched. Martin turned to his boyfriend, “I was just… you’re here a lot and The Captain is more ‘ours’ than ‘mine’, so I was going to ask if you kind of wanted to move in? But then there’s the pressure of a crowd-”

“No! I mean, yes. Martin, yeah that sounds great,” Jon corrected himself, and gave Martin that little smile that made him melt, “Of course I will, I really love you.”

“Oh, thank god. I really love you too,” Martin responded by leaning down to kiss him.

“Aww, baby’s first ‘I love you’” Tim cooed over the faux gagging coming from the others.

Martin giggled at this, “No, that’s long gone.”

“The fabric rustles have stopped: is it over?” Melanie asked the room, receiving several hums of agreement, “Cool, now can we go? I have money I want to spend on outfits for The Admiral.”

The six of them filtered out, all taking the time to say goodbye to The Captain instead of Jon and Martin, who they had all been rooting for getting together forever. Then again, they weren’t all exactly normal – what was even _was_ normal?

“Wait, they made a ghost show,” Jon spoke to himself in disbelief. “Oh, I’m going to get Tim on Monday.”

* * *

Jon and Martin decided to spend most of that weekend moving anything of Jon’s to Martin’s, now ‘their’, flat, as he didn’t have long left on the lease, and it wasn’t like Jon really lived there anyway.

Monday morning came by, and Jon hadn’t really thought about just how tense it was, keeping him and Martin a secret, as they were able to walk into the institute together and catch Rosie up on what happened (Georgie was the only person who found it funny that she had caught them first).

Once down in the Archives, life sort of went back to normal, except that Jon and Martin could show affection openly, to the dismay of certain colleagues. But the dynamics hadn’t changed – something Martin had voiced concern over during last night’s dinner. Tim was still finding ways to challenge himself; Sasha was still frantically trying to stop Tim from attempting those ‘challenges’ (meaning he was no longer allowed to be within 20 ft of instant coffee), except the ones she had to see for herself; Melanie, Basira, and Daisy were all still trying to one-up each other and get Jon to join in (his competitive side was not his best, but he was going to win this jousting match, goddamnit.); Elias still announced his engagement, despite none of them being invited; and The Captain still watched tentatively, wanting all the loves.

Tim had the betting table framed, and even managed to get it on one of the walls in the Archives. Admittedly, when he tried to put a nail in the wall, Sasha had tackled him before anyone was able to break the wall. Twenty minutes into the altercation, Daisy walked by, took the nail and hammer, sorted it, and walked off.

Tim was very proud of his handiwork.

(In a black frame was a sheet of white A4 paper, entitled ‘Bets regarding the getting together of Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist at The Magnus Institute, London, and Martin K. Blackwood’ in pink highlighter. Taking up the rest of the page, is a metallic gold drawn (obviously without a ruler) table with three columns and seven rows. The top row read ‘Name’, ‘Who Asks Who Out’, ‘Guesses On How’, all in metallic silver.

The second row read, in slim, metallic pink print, ‘Tim ♥’, ’30 English Pounds on one Jonathan Sims ☺’, ‘on a work trip, me and Sash are going to put them in a hotel room WITH ONLY ONE BED!!! Jon will reveal his love’.

The third row read, in black fine liner cursive font, ‘Sasha James’, ‘£30 for Jon’, ‘I’m going to enlist the help of Annabelle Cane, who will manage it somehow’.

The fourth row read, in purple biro scratches, ‘Basira’, ’30 on Blackwood’, ‘Martin finally snaps and out his crush’.

The fifth row reads, in thick black strokes from a marker, ‘DAISY’, ‘THIRTY ON SIMS’, ‘LOCK EM IN STORAGE, THEY’LL GIVE IN’.

The sixth row read, in blue biro tall handwriting, ‘Melanie King-Barker’, ‘£30 on Martin asking Jon’, ‘Fake dating AU gone wrong’.

The seventh and final row read, in the same handwriting as the one above, ‘Georgie Barker-King’, ‘£30 on Jon asking Martin’, ‘I will make Jon realise how much he talks about Martin, and then when they are stood close enough, and Martin leans down far enough, I will squish their heads together’.)

No one had expected to collect a weird little family when they applied for the jobs at The Magnus Institute, but here they were: eight very intelligent idiots doing their very best with what they had.

* * *

The week would fly by, and on Friday all eight of them would go to The Temporary Saint: Jon making his way into Martin’s lap the drunker he got, Tim still trying to beat Daisy at an arm wrestle after four drinks, Georgie aggressively showing Sasha photos of The Admiral in the new outfits Melanie had bought for him.

And in two and a half years’ time, the eight of them would sit around the same pub table (in spite of all of Jon’s awful excuses), creating stupid New Year’s resolutions. That was the same year Sasha started making Archival scrapbooks.

A year after that, they would sit at that table again, and Jon would propose to Martin not long after Tim had had a coaster thrown into his face, and Melanie had complained that Georgie didn’t know enough about mushrooms.

They didn’t realise they were making memories. They just thought they were having fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to say thank you to everyone who has read this, given it kudos, and commented - it has meant an awful lot to me, knowing that people were enjoying this, and it has done loads for my mental health. I had so much fun writing this, and will be continuing with the series soon, I've got a couple in motion: one LonelyEyes and their divorces, and a three chaptered 'Perhaps It's Haunted' continuation - since people really enjoyed it, with the supplemental 'Fucking Prove It', specifically for Aegopodium for joking about it in the first place.
> 
> So again, thank you all, and I hope the insanity of this fic made everything better, even if just for a moment xx


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